


Some Unspoken Thing

by mendeshoney



Series: Best Friends to Lovers AU [1]
Category: Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pining, Requited Love, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 09:46:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16870690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mendeshoney/pseuds/mendeshoney
Summary: You’re an actress, a singer, and Shawn Mendes’ best friend. This is the two of you, navigating 2017.





	1. JANUARY

The music is pounding against your temple, head foggy and hazy with your fifth glass of champagne. Your body sways carefully along with the beat, trying not to stumble over in your heels. Your dress flows as you move, the hands on your hips keeping you close.

Slowly, you turn around to face your dance partner as the countdown begins and music cuts off. You smile up at his face, rosy cheeks and messy curls falling into his eyes while he gives you a shit eating grin right back.

“Gonna kiss me?” You tease. It’s not like you hadn’t done it before, you two had kissed plenty of times, over many drunken nights and even some vulnerable moments. But New Years kisses were supposed to be special, right? Who you kiss is who you spend the year with, or something like that.

He shrugs, and you think he’s going to say no, but when the countdown gets to one his arms go from your waist to your face, cupping your cheeks and pulling you up to meet his lips. The kiss is soft, gentle, and you return it with as much feeling as he’s giving you. You expect to part after a few seconds and laugh it off, but when Shawn’s hands wind themselves into your hair at the base of your neck, you find your body pressed against his in the crowd, a small moan leaving your lips.

You feel him vibrate against you, groaning almost, and he’s pulling your bottom lip into his mouth, teeth nipping at it gently. When he pulls away, his eyes are glazed over and he’s staring at you with an expression you’ve never seen him wear before.

It’s a blur after that - the rushed goodbyes to your friends, Shawn pulling you to his Jeep, the drive to his place.

You’re standing in his room, making out like you’ve done it a thousand times before, like you’ve both learned the others’ bodies to memorization, and the tingling feeling on your skin is the only thing that reminds you otherwise. Shawn’s hands slip over the swell of your ass and you part, breathy moans escaping your lips.

“Look at you, rockstar.” You tease him. “You’ve just released an album, about to go on a world tour, how do you do it?”

He chuckles. “I have a beautiful girl waiting on me back home. Gotta make money so I can take her out to get french fries.”

You giggle while he unclasps your bra, palming your breasts in his large hands.  “She’s a lucky girl.” You hear yourself say, and Shawn looks at you fondly.

“You sure are.” He says, words coming out crystal clear. The expression in his face is unreadable, and you kiss him deeply, your hands going to his pants and his hands coming around to palm your ass.

He backs you up against the wall, fingers hooking through the straps of your dress and pulling down. You laugh at the way his eyes widen when he realizes you’re not wearing any underwear.

“You were like this all day? All night?”

You shrug. “Drunk me does not have the patience for underwear.”

Shawn smirks. “Good, neither do I.”

His hands go to your hips, spinning you around to face the wall and pulling your ass out towards him. You wait with bated breath until you feel the head of his cock part your folds and push in, the stretch making you hiss out, but the pleasure of being filled arching your body into his own. His hips move steady and sure, fingers tangling with yours and pinning your hands to the wall in front of you. Thank god you decided to wear heels tonight, because the height of both of your bodies is perfect enough that when Shawn flexes his hips up he hits you right where you need it, making you keen out and clench around him.

“I’ve waited so long for this.” He whispers into you ear. “I’ve waited so long for  _you_.”

His lips are on your neck, his hands slipping from yours. “Be a good girl for me and keep your hands on the wall,” he murmurs. Shawn’s hands slip to your waist, fingers tightening while he fucks into you slow and deep. You get lost in the feeling of it all, allowing yourself to slip into the beautiful sensation of your bodies moving together.

-

The heat from the shower calms you a bit, relaxing your aching body and allowing you to calm some of your nerves. You try to focus on something else - anything else - anything to take your mind off of the fact that you woke up in Shawn’s bed naked and you’re more than well aware that you had sex last night, and any minute now Shawn is going to wake up and realize the same thing.

You’re praying deep down he forgets.

You dry off quickly, padding quietly back into the room where Shawn is still sound asleep, soft snores passing his lips. You spot a pair of his sweatpants on the floor as well as his green Crossfit hoodie, shrugging both on and heading out to his living room.

Grabbing your laptop from your backpack on the couch, you make yourself comfortable in the L shaped cushions, plug in your headphones and head onto YouTube, figuring a few videos would clear your mind long enough to distract you from everything.

You’re watching a string of videos when it ends up on a performance Shawn did in Paris, and you can’t help but admire the passion he has on stage, and the connection he has with the crowd. You’ve always loved watching him perform - loved hearing him give his all time and time again.

You find yourself smiling at the screen in adoration when suddenly one of your earbuds is pulled out.

“Is that me?”

The suddenness of it all shocks you, gasping slightly. Shawn chuckles, coming around the couch and sitting right in front of you, shutting your laptop and making you pay attention to him.

“It was.” Your short answer and lack of enthusiasm makes him raise a brow at you.

“Where was that from?” He presses again, choosing to ignore the attitude.

“Paris.” The tone of your voice shocks you. Why were you being so…rude?

It’s awkward and weird. You’re being awkward and weird. You’ve never been short with him like this and you can tell that Shawn is catching on to your awkward vibe. You opt for moving into the kitchen - a bad choice, really - using the excuse of making breakfast as a distraction.

Shawn follows you though, and you can hear how deeply he’s breathing. You don’t need to look at him to know that he’s really upset, but you don’t know that it’s because he didn’t want it to be awkward - he thought he’d wake up with you in his arms and there’d be a silent agreement of where you two would move on from here. When he didn’t get that, when he woke in bed alone and found you isolated on his couch, his heart broke a little.

“Can you say something else?” He says, clearly annoyed.

“I just don’t know how to feel, Shawn.” You can’t look at him.  _Why are you being so stupid?_

“Was it that fucking bad? Is that why you won’t talk to me?”

_Is he joking? Can he not see that I limped the whole way to the fucking kitchen?_

You turn to look at him finally, upset at yourself when you see the clear sadness and disappointment in his eyes. “Shawn it was amazing, okay? I’m not going to deny you that. But I just…I don’t know. I wasn’t anticipating  _that._ ”

“But…we flirted with each other  _all_  night, and  _you_  kissed  _me_  at the beginning of the night, remember? And I asked you a thousand times if what we did was okay, and you said it was. You said you wanted it, we both did. So I don’t get why you’re going back on this now.”

“I’m not Shawn, I’m not. I just…it’s  _different_.” You turn back to the counter, trying to find something to do with your hands to distract you.

“What does that even mean?!”

“I don’t know! Okay?! I’m just trying to figure out where we go from here! Sleeping with people changes things and I don’t want us to change.”

Shawn’s facial expression softens. “Hey, look at me, please?”

You hesitate, but do as he asks. He can see that you’re afraid, and his heart breaks at the sight. “We’re not going to change, okay? I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. We’re still best friends, okay? Nothing is going to change. This happened, we can’t deny that, we can only take this into consideration and move forward. Don’t start the new year off like this though, don’t start  _us_  off this way. Please.” He takes your hands in his, holding them tightly, like if he doesn’t you’ll float away. “Don’t do this. If anything changes it’ll be because you chose to worry about one night and ignore the years of friendship we have.”

You let your head hang forward, your head hitting him square in the chest, a deep sigh leaving your body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just got caught off guard.”

“It’s okay. I know. But I’m here, you’re here, and we’re going to be fine.”

Shawn wraps his arm around you, holding you close. He’s not fine, not really. He was hoping it wouldn’t be this bad, was hoping for a much better outcome than the one he got. But, he still has you, like always, and perhaps that’s going to have to be enough for now.


	2. FEBRUARY

Watching the snowfall outside from under your covers, you absentmindedly turn the page on your script, not really interested in the plot anymore. Valentine’s day is in a few days, and Shawn’s in town as your Valentine (like he’s been since you both became single not too long ago.)

You haven’t seen him since New Years day, having worked things through and agreeing to not forget that night (you couldn’t if you tried), and that whatever followed after that night would happen, and you’d both deal with things as they came.

He’s staying in a hotel this time around, not wanting to push the limits of your newly defined relationship and friendship, but also because he’s got a lot of promotion to do for the album and his upcoming tour, but he promised that after some radio interview he had today he’d swing by your place to hang out with you and do some “Valentine’s Day shit,” as he put it.

When you finally manage to turn back to your script and get immersed in the plot again, your phone buzzes from your nightstand, a FaceTime coming in from Shawn.

He’s leaning against some wall, wearing his grey Nike zip-up and one arm slung over his head lazily. He smiles at you when he sees your face, bright eyes and rosy cheeks welcoming your eyes.

“Hey honey.” He says cheerfully. “What are you up to?”

“Just reading this script. How’d the interview go?”

He winces slightly. “That’s kind of what I wanted to call you about? I didn’t want you to be surprised when you got notifications about it from everywhere and heard the sound bites.”

You sit up in bed, worried. “What happened, Shawn?”  _Did this idiot tell the whole world we had sex?_

“Well, they were asking me about the inspiration behind some of the songs, and I kind of confessed that…well I confessed that I wrote ‘Ruin,’ about you.”

At first, you think he’s joking, but when you see the seriousity on Shawn’s face you start to freak out internally. You don’t say anything for a moment, thinking back to last year when he was writing “Illuminate” and if he ever dropped any hints, or if there were signs when you were dating your ex but you didn’t see them. You think back to that first time you two explored the others bodies last year, when he helped you run lines while living with you, and shut that away. That was a different time - a different night together, one that meant something.

This was a big deal - Shawn just admitted on the radio that he wrote love song about you and it was bound to be everywhere in minutes. You know you look stupid - sitting there with a look of shock all over your face, but you don’t know what to say. It explains the flirting, why he was so upset when he didn’t wake up to you New Years day, why that night meant so much more to him than it did to you.

You can tell he’s waiting for a response, and you’re about to say something, anything, when you hear giggles from somewhere in the room that Shawn’s in, and you see the corner of his mouth start to twitch. “You’re joking aren’t you? Please tell me you’re joking, Shawn.”

He remains stoic for another second before his face goes red, giggles spewing from his lips before he goes into his full bodied laugh. “I am joking, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! It was a dare!”

A large sigh of relief leaves your body as you lean back onto your headboard, flinging your arm over your eyes. “Jesus Christ I was literally going to chew you out.”

“Me?! Why?!”

“Because you’ve never kept secrets from me before!”

The DJ laughs. “I love that your first concern is that he’s kept secrets from you and not written a song about you.”

“That would’ve been the second thing I yelled at him about.” You mutter, moving your arm to glare at Shawn. “Are you done pranking me? Can I return to my script in peace?”

“Yes he’s done. Thanks for being such a good sport!” The DJ says. Shawn laughs, waving a quick goodbye and ending the FaceTime.

You toss your phone to the covers and scream into your pillow.  _What the fuck._  It’s bad enough that you’re confused as hell about how you feel about Shawn since you slept together for the first time, but if he wrote ‘Ruin’ about you? And didn’t even tell you before he told the world? You have no idea what you’d do.

Angrily, you flip your script back open, trying to distract yourself by getting lost in the plot.

Ten minutes later, when you’ve calmed down enough, your phone vibrates on your bed.

_**“Please don’t be mad at me”** _

“Well his interview must be over.” You say aloud to yourself.

**_“I’m not, you weirdo. But don’t scare me like that again.”_ **

**_“I won’t. But why’d you freak out like that?”_ **

**_“What?”_ **

**_“Like why’d you silent panic like that? Like it’d be such a bad thing that I wrote ‘Ruin’ about you.”_ **

**_“???”_ **

You get a FaceTime call from Shawn minutes later, his face set in a hard line. “Well?”

“Shawn, relax. I didn’t say it would be a bad thing. ‘Ruin’ is a great song.”

“I’m not talking about my songwriting skills. I’m talking about the fact that it’s about  _you_.”

“But it’s not?”

“But if it  _was_ , why did you have a silent freak out like that?”

You sigh. “Shawn, I didn’t mean to, okay? It just caught me off guard. And it’s not a big deal. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings by not saying anything. I guess I just freaked out because there was a possibility of you not telling me something, and we agreed when we became friends to always be honest with one another, and that would’ve been something you weren’t honest about. Okay? That’s all. I’m sorry.”

He sighs. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so worked up, I guess I’m just a little stressed out is all. I was looking forward to seeing you today and I didn’t know they were going to dare me to do stuff and I guess I just got mad that it might have messed up our day.”

Now it’s your turn to sigh. “It’s okay. It didn’t mess up anything.  _You_ didn’t mess up anything. I promise. Did you still want to come over?”

“Please.”

“Okay, well you have a key, so use it.”

“I have to change and grab a couple of things first, so I’ll be there in thirty minutes, okay?”

-

You’re laying in bed, scrolling through the movies on Netflix to see what you and Shawn could both watch when you hear your front door open. Footsteps climb the stairs quickly, and seconds later Shawn appears in your doorway wearing his signature grey sweatpants and a maroon crewneck sweater - drink holder in one hand, two grocery bags and a bouquet of roses in the other.

“Happy early Valentine’s Day,” he says with a shy smile. You return it immediately, sitting up and holding your arms out.

“Shawn! You didn’t have to do all this.” He places the roses on your lap and the grocery bags on the nightstand next to you before taking a Starbucks cup out of the drink holder and handing it to you.

“Of course I did,” he says. “I’m your Valentine, it’s my job.”

You roll your eyes, curling your finger to beckon his head down toward you. He makes a show of putting both hands behind his back and bending down, where you take a chance and kiss him soft and quick on his lips.

When you pull back, the shocked expression on his face makes you laugh, gripping your drink tightly so you don’t spill all over your white comforter.

“It’s also an apology,” he says sheepishly, “for the prank call.”

You pat the space next to you on your bed. “Water under the bridge. Come sit.”

He grabs his iced drink from the tray, carefully climbing over your legs before he settles in next to you, pulling the covers over his lower half as he leans back against your headboard. He takes his phone out, and kisses the side of your head gently, snapping a quick picture for his own personal collection.

“That’s cute,” you say, “send it to me.”

He does as you ask while you press play on some movie, not paying attention for the first couple of minutes while he scrolls through his photos that he has of the two of you so far. There’s about a little over a thousand in the album he has dedicated for your friendship, just moments he’s captured and saved to look back on when he’s missing you, or when he just needs a pick me up.

Shawn will never be able to thank Johnson enough for introducing the two of you.

You and Johnson were friends - and it made sense that you were - you’re both extremely intelligent and knowledgeable about a lot of things Shawn had no clue about. He and Gilinsky would often look back and forth at the other listening to you and Johnson talk. Shawn felt bad at first for becoming such good friends with you because he didn’t mean to make Johnson feel like he stole you away, but Johnson didn’t seem to mind.

“She’s not mine to begin with bro,” Johnson had said. “She’s nobody’s anything, just her. That’s what makes her so cool. You know? Got a mind of her own and she’s just going through it all with us.”

Shawn thinks Johnson might’ve been drunk when he said that. He chuckles at the memory, and you draw your attention from the movie to raise a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Everything alright in there Mendes?” You say, waving your hand in front of his face.

He takes that hand and laces his fingers through it, plopping it between you both on the bed. “I’m fine,” he says, “Just thinking about when we met.”

You laugh out loud, remembering the eventful day it was. “You thought I was insane.”

“I did not!” He protests. “I just didn’t know you were so  _lively._ ”

“Lively? What a word choice.”

He flushes hard, rubbing his thumb over your hand. “You just took my by surprise, is all.”

You kiss his cheek, resting your head on his shoulder. “And now look where we are.”

He presses a kiss in return to your hair. “Yeah.” He thinks he wishes you were in a different scenario, making out under the covers or even naked while he held you, but he thinks this will have to do for now. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”


	3. MARCH

“That was great Shawn! Can we try ‘Don’t Be A Fool,’ and maybe run ‘Bad Reputation’ one more time?”

Shawn nods from the makeshift stage area, fiddling with his in-ears before strumming the beginning chords. You’re lounging on the little couch in the corner of the room, far enough away that you’re not distracting him by making yourself known, but close enough that he can see you, can give you a look if it’s too much and he needs you to come save him.

He’s gearing up for the “Illuminate” tour and he’s been nothing but a ball of anxiety these last few days, texting you and calling you like crazy when he’s had enough and just needs to let it all out.

“I feel like I’m going to vomit my entire stomach out.” He said to you yesterday morning. “I literally cannot do this. What if I suck? What if they don’t like the set list? What if no one shows up and I-”

“Shawn! Will you shut up and listen to me?!” You chuckled to yourself. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, okay babe? You are a literal  _rock star_  and you are going to have a  _kick-ass_ sold out tour, and that set list is going to break hearts everywhere. Don’t stress yourself out worrying about nothing.”

He sighs deeply. “I just don’t know if I can do this.”

“Don’t say that, Shawn. You  _can_  do this. Everything you’ve done, all this hard work you’ve put in on this album has led up to this point, this tour. It’s time to show everyone that Shawn Mendes has grown up, he’s got some things to say and those fans of his are ready to listen.”

“Why do you always know just what to say?”

“Because I’m your best friend and it’s my job. Do you feel better now? Have I done my job correctly?”

Shawn chuckles, and you could hear him smile over the phone. “I’d feel a lot better if you were here with me, to be honest.” There’s a small silence on his end, unsure of how you’d react. “I mean, if you want. You don’t have to? I know you’re busy, reading your script and all for your next movie and I don’t want to pull you away from -”

“I’ll be there by tomorrow morning, Shawn.” You said, already packing your things.

You took a flight early the next morning and took an Uber to Shawn’s condo, letting yourself in that morning and surprising him with breakfast in bed. He was so grateful - smiling brightly at you between mouthfuls of food and sips of his hot tea. Everything about him was giddy this morning - he sang loudly and happily in the shower, and while you took a shower he sat on the bathroom counter like you’d leave if he turned his back on you for a second, talking animatedly to you through the curtain and making you laugh.

Shawn was definitely in a much better mood than he had been these past few days, and you were happy to provide that change for him.

You drove him to rehearsals, allowing him to relax the whole car ride, enjoying his thermos of tea, reclining comfortable in his sweatpants and hoodie from the passenger seat. He rested his hand on your thigh the whole way there, thumb rubbing at your leggings, playing with the hem of your oversized shirt under one of his flannels.

“You’re so pretty.” He cooed at you, making you blush and swat his hand away.

“Shawn stop.”

“But you are! Can I not call my best friend pretty?”

You turn to him for a brief moment, raising a suspicious brow at him. “What do you want, Mendes?”

“Can you make me dinner tonight too, please?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes I can, your highness. Anything else?”

He laughs. “I love you.” He says earnestly. “And thank you for coming, really. I appreciate it. You didn’t have to come all the way out here.”

“Of course I did,” you say, taking your hand off of the wheel and placing it behind his head, scratching at the hair at the nape of his neck. “You need some TLC, and I’m here to give it to you.”

You promised him and Gertler that you’d be silent the entire tour rehearsal, curled up on the couch perched in the corner of the room, reading your script until all your lines were carved into your brain.

You took a break every now and again, listening to Shawn sing through a few songs before going back to your lines. 

After about twenty minutes, there’s a dip in the couch and you smile when you see it’s Geoff, moving your feet to fold under you so he has more room to sit.

“Thanks for coming out here.” He says, patting your knee. “He was kind of going crazy and I didn’t really know how else to help him.”

You shrug. “It’s fine, not like I can’t memorize my lines anywhere.”

“Is this for that romance movie you’re filming in next month?”

“Yeah.” You say, and he makes a face at you. “I know I know, it’s weird because I said I’d never do one, but it’s a period piece and it’s a good story. I’ll be in Spain for the first half, then London for the second half, and then I’ll be done.”

“Well as long as you’re happy with it,” he says, leaning back into the couch. “And what about the one you did last year? That action one? When’s that coming out?”

“October.” You say. It’s weird, because as relaxed as everything has been since the year started, you’re about to become super busy. You’re going to Barcelona next month where you’ll be for two months, and then London for another two, you’ve got promo all August and September with a few breaks in between, and then October’s the premiere, and you’re free until the new year.

Last year was a lot different. You were filming here and there in New York for most of it, and then Shawn lived with you for six months, helping you run lines between shoot days, going away for his own shows, recording the album, and then coming back to you. The both of you didn’t really get to catch a break until his album came out, which is around the time he moved out of your apartment.

You laugh to yourself, _just how fast the night changes._

“Well I’d better get an invitation to your fancy movie premiere.” Geoff teases. You laugh at him as Shawn comes over to join you on the couch, and Geoff takes that as his cue to leave, saying a quick goodbye to you before he goes to speak to Zubin.

Shawn grabs your legs from under you and puts them into his lap, leaning his upper body on your legs and relaxing.

“Hey rock star.” You teased. “Sounded great out there.”

“Thanks.” He says, beaming. “Hey, remember this time last year I started living with you?”

What pops into your head is the first night you had sex together in your apartment, after he helped your run lines for that movie you finished shooting last November. Flashes of the two of you kissing, the way you nearly forgot it was Shawn who was making you feel so amazing, the fact that it was so much easier to accept the aftermath of that than the aftermath of New Years Day.

Maybe because New Years Day actually made you feel something you weren’t ready to come to terms with quite yet.

“Of course I remember. Best six months of my life.” You say instead, elbowing him in his side playfully.

“I miss that. Us being together all the time like that, I mean.”

“It’s not like we’re not together all the time now.”

“Yeah but it’s different now. We only see each other like what, once a month? And I miss living here in New York, living with you. It was nice to always have someone to come home to after a show or when I was done in the studio, you know? Even if you were filming for a bit, you filmed most of it in New York and it was nice to have you come back to me. Going home to my condo sucks if I’m alone. Why do you think I take the hour and a half flight to New York all the time? I miss you.”

“I’m right here, Shawn. I’m not going anywhere.” The way you say it shocks yourself - like you’re his girlfriend, like this is the emotional preparation before he leaves for tour. Part of you shrugs it off - you’re best friends, you’ve said goodbye like this to him before, seeing him off before tour and wishing him good luck.

But the other part of you can’t ignore the fact that this feels different, and you have no idea why.

“It’s not the same.” He says sadly. “You’re gonna be filming next month and I’ll be on tour. We’ll barely see each other.”

“Shawn,” you pull your legs from him and sit up, looking at him seriously. He seems pretty upset about it all, and you’re starting to feel it too. “We’ll see each other. We’ll make time, like we always do.”

You can see where the added pressure is coming from - he’s about to launch into the next phase of his career and all of this is obviously bothering him. He’s worried about change. Worried about what the year is going to bring him if his career is about to skyrocket. You’ve been that one constant in his life and if he lost you, well, if you lost each other, you’d both be pretty devastated.

“Hey,” you say, snapping him out of his thoughts, bringing him back to you. “What do you want for dinner?”

He blinks. “What?”

“You said you wanted me to make you dinner tonight. What do you want?”

Shawn smiles. “Is it stupid if all I want is soup?”

You shake your head. “No it’s not. In a bread bowl?”

“As always.”

“How much longer do they need you here?”

Shawn shrugs, checking his phone. “Maybe another two hours?”

“Tell you what, I’ll go grocery shopping for the stuff, and I’ll get it started at your place, and when you’re done I’ll come pick you up?”

He yanks you across the couch in response, pulling you into a tight hug and burying his face in your neck. “I’d probably die without you.” He says quietly. You stay silent, not wanting him to know you’re starting to feel the same about him.

-

You’re pouring the last of the softened vegetables into the crockpot when you hear keys jingling in the doorway, Shawn making his way in a few moments later, shrugging his backpack to the floor. “Hey!” You say, slightly confused. “Wasn’t I supposed to pick you up?”

“Couldn’t wait,” he says hurriedly, coming into the kitchen. “Made Geoff bring me home early.”

You’re about to question him when suddenly his lips are on yours, hands gripping your waist as his lips move against you, soft and supple when he grabs your bottom lip between his teeth and pulls gently. He pulls away, moving his hands to grip yours as he begins to slowly walk backward, pulling you with him.

“Can you come with me?” He asks. “Can you help me relax?”

Your brain is telling your feet to stop walking, to plant firm into his floor and not let him pull you any farther. You’ve been over this - you thought you already talked about this in January, that you weren’t going to do things like this because it was going to complicate things. And Shawn would never force you - which is why he’s pulling you toward his bedroom so easily.

Because deep down you both know you want this - he  _needs_ this, needs to unwind and relax and so you do. He needs to feel you  _here_ and needs to know you’re not going anywhere. And you want to help him. But you also want to feel him. You’re mind’s been fucked up between keeping Shawn as a friend and wanting him as more and you can’t make up your mind.

So for now, you let him make the decision for the both of you, and let him lay you in his bed, his body over yours, clothes going on the floor.


	4. APRIL

Shawn’s tour starts in three days on April twenty-seventh in Glasgow - the same day that you start filming your new movie in Barcelona. It tore you both up inside when you realized you wouldn’t be there at his first show like you were both hoping. You knew that he couldn’t be there for your first day of filming, but you were counting on being there for him for his first show, to be there to calm his nerves and watch him step into the next phase of his career.

The original plan you had was that you’d be with Jack and Jack in LA for a few days before you flew to Toronto to be with Shawn at his pre-tour party. Then you’d fly with him to Scotland, be there at his first few shows, and when he went to Madird, you’d leave him to start filming in Barcelona. Of course, that plan went to complete shit.

You found out last week - you were in Los Angeles with Jack and Jack (as scheduled), relaxing on their couch when you got the phone call. Filming had been moved up a week to account for schedules of the rest of the cast, and that included you. Your co-star was also working on other projects alongside the film, and needed to start filming early so he could end filming early.

Which meant you had to go with him - most of your scenes needed to be filmed together, so you had to get going.

You knew you would still be able to attend Shawn’s pre-tour party, so here you were - drinking your sorrows away in the middle of a club in Toronto.

You don’t know why or when you started drinking so much, but the idea of leaving Shawn this time was really starting to weigh on you. When you left him last month, you felt like you were in a parallel universe. You spent a full week with him - bringing him to rehearsals, making him dinner, and having him come home to you, and he’d bring you to his bed every night. It became a routine - much like the one you had when he lived with you (minus sex night after night), and you realized he was onto something.

You missed being around him all the time. You missed the fact that you were always together, always with him, and seeing him once every so many months was starting to kill you inside.

You could never admit to him or anyone that you had feelings for him - ever since Johnson introduced the two of you, you felt this magnetic pull with him you tried to push to the side, and it just never worked. When you slept together for the first time last year - it made you so fucking happy you shed tears of joy the next morning, but you knew it wouldn’t go further than that, so again, you pushed it to the side.

Until it did, on New Years. Except it was different. It felt too real - felt like getting slapped in the face and being forced to confront how you felt. Maybe that’s why you pushed Shawn away - why you wouldn’t just let you both be happy the next morning.

You definitely weren’t ready to come to terms with those feelings - that much you knew.

Were you ready now?

Throwing caution to the wind, you grabbed another shot glass on a passing tray and knocked it back, letting the alcohol run through your veins and erase all of your troubles.

You’re about to reach for another when a hand stops you, swatting your fingers out of the way. You frown at Josiah, who takes a picture of you with his stupid camera. “I was gonna drink that,” you say.

He chuckles at you, pulling you off of the dance floor and plopping you down into a booth. When you sit, you suddenly get dizzy, going pale. “How about you don’t and drink this instead?” He procures a bottle of water from seemingly out of nowhere. When you don’t take it, he sighs at you. “Just please drink it? Shawn asked me to make sure you were doing okay. You’ve been drinking a lot tonight.”

“So it seems I have.” You say. You take the bottle of water but don’t drink, just place it on the table in front of you. You shut your eyes tight, feel like the room is spinning and when you open your eyes again, you’re pleading silently with Josian to help you, feel like you’re gonna puke all over the place if he doesn’t hurry.

Josiah sighs. “Do you want me to get Shawn?” You look up at him, nodding. “If I get Shawn will you drink your water?” You nod again, bringing the bottle into your lap. He rolls his eyes at you playfully, but leaves, coming back a couple minutes later and shoving Shawn toward you.

“What’s wrong honey?” Shawn asks, kneeling down to your ear level. He brushes your hair to the side, thumb rubbing at your jawline. “Had too much to drink?”

“I think so.” You mumble, not realizing he can’t hear you.

His hands are on your face, making you look at him. “You wanna go to the bathroom, babe? Gonna throw up?”

You shake your head, and he takes the water bottle from your hand, uncapping it and helping you drink a little bit of it. He makes you drink about half of it before he caps it again, and he watches your face, gauging your reaction.

You look right back at him, examining his face.

He’s grown up so much since you first met. He’s gotten taller, broader, bulked up, and his chubby little cheeks thinned out, his jawline becoming more chiseled, his muscles becoming more defined. His curls had grown out a bit atop his head, and his boyish charm had been replaced by that of a young man, a gentleman, one you felt attracted to immensely in this very moment. You knew what his body was capable of - knew that he was no longer the kid you met at a burger joint in LA - he’d grown into this passionate lover, sure of himself and sure of his desires, his wants, his needs. He surprised you time and time again in bed - made you feel like he was built for this, built for you.

You remember how nervous you were last year, when you first slept together. You’re three years older than him, and you panicked slightly - he was only seventeen, technically it wasn’t legal, but also, how much did he know? He wasn’t a virgin, you knew as much, but was there anyway he could be experienced enough? You were fine with doing all the work - fine with showing him what you liked, helping him figure out what he liked, but he took you by surprise. He knew exactly what he liked, figured out what you liked within seconds, and that body has loved you right every time ever since.

Your hands reached out to his face on their own accord, astonished by his beauty in your drunken state. Your fingers brush lightly across his cheeks, jawline, and under his eyes. He giggles a little at you. “Havin’ fun there, beautiful?”

“Gonna miss you.” You say, fingers by his lips. He kisses the tops of them before capturing your wandering fingers in his large hands, “Don’t wanna leave you.”

“Don’t want you to leave me either, honey. But we both gotta go to work, right? Gotta pay the bills somehow.” He’s trying to joke, trying to make you laugh, trying not to make you emotional cause you’re an emotional drunk and he can’t stand it when you cry - makes his heart hurt.

“Can we go home?” You choke out, squeezing his hands. “Can we blow this popsicle stand?” He laughs at you when you say that, and you want to laugh too but you can’t. You don’t. You don’t feel good and you don’t want to be in this club anymore. You don’t register or remember that the reason you’re there is for Shawn, it’s  _his_  pre-tour party, and in all honesty, Shawn doesn’t care.

 _Home._  Shawn rejoices in his head - you consider his place your home, too. He smiles, kissing the back of your hand. “Yeah baby, let’s go home.”

-

You wake up with a small start, and that sickening twist in your stomach has you jumping out of bed and running for the toilet, retching up your guts and crying with the burn of it all. You’re slumped pathetically against the bowl, clad in just your underwear and an over sized shirt, and you feel like you want to crawl out of your own skin.

A warm hand on your back makes you jump, but you relax within seconds. Who else would it be, if not Shawn?

His hand rubs gently, pulling your hair back, his fingers brushing at your scalp as he gathers your hair behind your head, using the hair tie he keeps for you on his wrist to put it in a ponytail. You nod your thanks at him as you throw up again, and he sits there with you like that - rubbing your back, playing with your ponytail every now and again.

Once you’re feeling better, he helps you stand, watches you brush your teeth and helps you back into bed. You’re feeling a little better now, and you wordlessly lay with him, Shawn rubbing your back and kissing your forehead every now and again until you both fall asleep.

-

When you wake up a second time, it’s to Shawn snoring softly in your ear, your back pressed against his front, and his stiff erection grinding into your ass. You sit for a minute, wondering if he’s actually awake, but after a second you realize he’s not awake at all. He’s probably dreaming, but whatever he’s doing in his dream has his hips moving against yours like he’s inside of you, recognizing the push and pull.

You get up quickly, careful not to disturb whatever dream Shawn is having, to take a quick shower and brush your teeth, feeling a little bit more refreshed and like yourself again. When you climb back into bed, your resume your position, lying with your back against Shawn, and his arm instantly wraps around your waist, pulling your ass flush against him again.

His sleepy insistence causes something wicked to awake inside of you, and you push your hips back against him, moving slowly with his strokes, and he moans quietly in his sleep.

You turn over carefully, his hand still resting on your side. You reach your hands under the covers and dip your hands under the waistband of his briefs, fist wrapping around his cock and slowly beginning to pump.

Shawn stirs in his sleep, his dreams enticing him to go further. He sees you, beautiful, gentle, innocent, passionate, fiery, and wild - he’s so addicted to you he can feel it in his bones. You’re writhing beneath him, enjoying everything he’s got to give to you. You’re back at your apartment in New York - his favorite place to be, his safe haven - and he’s got you in your bed, got you moaning his name and crying out for him like he’s your fucking savior.

He loves it - can’t believe he’s so lucky to have you. In this beautiful dream of his - you’re together, there’s no question, no doubt in his mind especially with the way you’re looking at him like he’s got your heart on his sleeve, wearing it like a trophy, like he’s wearing a gold medal. And you’ve got his heart, you’ve  _had_ his heart for years and you’ve got it locked safely away in your hands, not gonna break it, not gonna throw it away.

He feels you move beneath him, watches as your tiny hands take hold of his cock and start to stroke. His head tips back in ecstasy, your delicate touch driving him crazy, so crazy he’s ready to get down on his hands and knees and  _beg_  you for mercy, beg you to let him come.

“Please,” he whispers. It’s louder than he imagined, like he can’t believe he’s said it out loud, like he’s having an out of body experience.

“Wake up.” You murmur, and he can feel you kissing at his collarbone, stroking him and your body pressed against his. It’s too real - it’s all too fucking real and it’s tugging at his heart strings, he knew this dream was too good to be true.

“Wake up,” you say again, this time closer, louder, and your hand squeezes him in his briefs a little tighter.

His eyes shoot open right when you make your way down the bed, gently turning him on his back and taking him in your mouth. He rips the covers away as props up on his elbows, looking down at you in disbelief. Pleasure washes over him at the sight of you wide-eyed, your pretty lips sucking at him like he’s a lollipop.

“Holy fucking shit.” He curses. He gently pulls you up by the chin, and allows himself to scoot back and rest against his headboard. He gives you a nod to continue, and your lips are on him again, sticking your tongue out as you go down, taking as much of him as you can. Your eyes water a little and your throat flutters around him, a choked moan leaving his lips as his hand flies into your hair.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” Shawn says, hands tightening in your hair, careful not to pull too tight.

You moan around him, love the fact that you can see him getting more and more turned on. You pull up to take a deep breath, teasing him a little by sucking only on the head, flicking your tongue under the ridge. His breath hisses when you open a little, and take him down, forming a tight suction on the way up.

His head tips back, lip between his teeth as a groan vibrates within his chest, body vibrating as he chuckles out “don’t fucking tease me.”

You wrap your hand around the base of him, getting a good grip before you bring it up, stroking him gently, pumping as you move your mouth up and down, sucking as you go.

“ _Fuck_  just like that!” He cries, staring down at you. You lock eyes with him, pulling of to give him a wicked smile before you’re back down, speeding up the pace, sucking and pumping him quick, knowing he’s ready to come.

A flurry of moans leave his lips and he comes forward off the headboard, hands in your hair as he starts to groan, fingers tightening as they form a ponytail around your hair. “I’m coming baby, I’m coming.” He mumbles, hips flexing instinctively up into your mouth.

You feel his cock harden and pulse in your hand and you take him down deep, his cock coming deep down your throat as a loud groan leaves his lips, hips stuttering as he empties himself in your mouth.

You pull off of him carefully, swallowing and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He bends over the side of the bed, grabbing his discarded shirt from the floor and using it to help you wipe your face, his other hand cradling the back of your head to keep you still.

When you’re done, he cradles you back into his arms, mumbling incoherent things about how he loves you so much, thanking you for doing that and promising once he gets his breath back he’s going to return the favor until you can’t walk. Shawn loves the fact that this is how he woke up, that his dream came true.

In your heart though, you’re feeling sad. You know you still have to leave each other soon, and while this was mindblowingly satisfying, knowing you could undo him so easily, that he gets that wild for you, it also leaves you feeling slightly more attached to him than you remember being originally. You can tell that he’s feeling confident, because he can see the tables are turning and you’re starting to feel what he’s feeling.

And really? You don’t mind.

Yeah, you love him too. You really love him too.


	5. MAY

Shawn’s been on his European tour for a little bit now, and you’ve been filming in Spain since it began. After you left him in April, you lost touch with him a little. You would text here and there and you so far got only one FaceTime in, both of you caught up in your own work. You admit you were feeling a little upset that you weren’t communicating as frequent as you were used to, or as much as you would like, but you also knew there was no getting around it. Your only option was to immerse yourself into this film and when the time was right you guys would be able to talk, and hopefully talk about where you would go from here.

You also knew part of it was because Shawn might be a little upset with you. You surprised him by waking him up with a blowjob and the sex that followed was nothing short of spectacular, but just when you went to tell him that you were possibly starting to develop feelings for him, that you might love him too, you choked - couldn’t say a word, didn’t say a word. You knew in the moment that you had real feelings for him, that they weren’t founded in just sex, but for some reason your brain told you to keep your trap shut.

Shawn poked and prodded at it while he drove you to the airport, but you remained silent.

“I know this changes things for us,” he had said, “and I know it might be a little scary. But tell me you don’t feel like this is what we should be doing.”

You just looked at him and gave a small smile, and he rested his hand on your thigh, accepting it as an answer.

“We’ll figure this out.” He promised. “We’re gonna get through this tour and your movie and we’re going to figure out what we’re going to do, okay?” 

You can only nod, and when he went to say goodbye to you, he kissed you sweetly and said “I love you.” You wanted to say it back, could feel it on the tip of your tongue, but nothing came out. So he said “it’s okay, I get it, you don’t have to say it right now.”

That moment had been running through your brain, along with the way his hands wandered under your shirt when you kissed him goodbye for a final time. The tone is his vice scream rejection, you knew he was upset, but you couldn’t bring yourself to fix it. You’d been missing him terribly since then, wishing you could just see him again and go back to last year, when you saw him almost all the time, when it was easier to talk to him. But you knew the minute he was in front of you, your brain would go back and forth all over again.

You laughed.  _First you say you love me, then you say you don’t._ Maybe he should’ve written  _that_  one about you.

Currently you were waiting off camera while the crew finished setting up the room, lighting and cameras, standing while people from makeup and wardrobe tended to you, making sure you looked like a fair maiden from the eighteenth century.

“Where’s my favorite girl?”

You spin around at the sound of his voice, the train of your dress dramatically spinning around with you, and when your eyes land on Shawn, your heart drops to your feet.

He looks so fucking  _sexy._

His muscles had grown quite a bit in a matter of weeks, the gym obviously treating him extremely well by the way the tight black shirt he’s wearing hugs his body. His curls had grown out and were hanging over his forehead, and he appears taller than you remember.

You’re at a loss for words until it registers that _holy fucking shit_ he’s here. In Spain. On your movie set.

“Shawn!” You scream, running and jumping into his arms, forgetting for a moment your costume costs thousands of dollars and took thirty minutes for your stylists to get you into. He catches you with ease, one large hand supporting your butt, the other cradling the back of your head and his face buried into your neck. “What are you doing here?!”

“Came to see my girl in action.” He whispers against your skin.  _My girl,_  you think.  _You bet your ass I am._

Wait. What?

“You didn’t have to.” You say as he sets you down gently, smoothing out the train of your dress for you.

“Of course I did. I’ve got a show tonight in Barcelona and I couldn’t  _not_  bring my girl.”

The more he says it the more you want him to say it again. You knew he’d be in town while you were filming, but it never crossed your mind that you’d see him, you thought he’d be too busy.

“Well hello, who’s this lad?”

You and Shawn both turn at Gregg’s voice, and you smile at him. “Gregg, this is Shawn, Shawn Mendes, my best friend. Shawn this is Gregg Sulkin, my co-star.” When you turn to Shawn, his cheery face is replaced with an unreadable look, and he shakes Gregg’s hand, nodding at him but not saying one word.

“Lovely to meet you mate,” Gregg says. “She’s told me a lot about you.”

“All good things, I swear,” you tease, looking at Shawn. His face softens when he looks at you, but when he looks back at Gregg he just looks annoyed.

 _Oh my god_ , you think.  _He’s jealous._

You can’t deny it doesn’t boost your ego a little, making you feel confident that Shawn recognizes what he has.

Okay wait what?  _Make up your fucking mind, girl._

Shawn smiles, rubbing your arm when he says, “Do you think you’ll be done here in time for the show tonight?”

You nod eagerly. “I’ll be finished in about two hours.”

“Perfect,” he says. “Listen, I want to stay but I have to get back for sound check. Text me your hotel address and when you’re ready, just call me and I’ll come pick you up, okay? And bring an overnight bag, I want you to stay with me at the villa we’re renting tonight.”

“Okay, I can do that.” You say, and he gives you that dazzling shit eating grin, kissing you on the lips and taking you by surprise. You have half a mind to yank him back and make him kiss you properly, but you don’t.

Because since when do you  _ever_  do that?

“I’ll see you later honey.” He says. He looks over your shoulder at Gregg and says “Nice to meet you dude,” before he turns on his heels and walks out.

Gregg laughs from behind you as you watch Shawn walk away, and when you turn back to him, he has his arms crossed over his chest and he’s smirking at you.

“Thought you said you were best friends?”

You blink. “We are.”

Gregg points a finger in the direction Shawn left. “Does  _he_  know that?” His finger then points to you. “Do  _you_  know that?”

You don’t say anything, silent for a minute and Gregg’s worried he might have hit a nerve. “Hey, look, it doesn’t matter okay? Just remember for the next two hours you’re my love interest.”

“Shut up!” You exclaim, hitting him in the arm.

He laughs at you, taking your hand and pulling you back to set. “Let’s get back to work, okay?”

-

Shawn’s show ended hours ago, and you’re relaxing in one of the daybeds by the pool, the canopy of it pulled up and forming a shell. It’s a nice private villa, similar to the one you and the cast are staying at not too far from set, but Shawn’s feels better, more like home. You’re clad in just a robe, having showered and wanting to dry off in the cool night air, taking a moment to yourself to think and relax.

You were so sure, so positive back in April that you knew you loved Shawn. And you were positive about it now. So why were you being so hesitant? Why were you being so stupid?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when Shawn approaches your daybed, sweatpants slung low on his hips, shirtless, and wet from his shower. He silently extends his hand out to you and you take it, expecting him to pull you up and lead you back to his room.

Instead, he kisses the back of your hand, placing a knee on the cushion and pulling your body, making you sit upright. By the look in his eyes you know where this is going to go, and you’re nervous.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” He says, placing his other knee on the bed, towering over you. You respond with a kiss to his abdomen, throwing caution to the wind and just letting the moment overtake you both.

His fingertips graze your shoulder as he moves your robe out of the way, feeling your skin beneath his fingers, staring down at you in awe. Damn is he one lucky man. He has the most beautiful girl in the world right in front of him, she’s his best friend, and who knows, if everything goes right, goes they way they both want, she’ll be his everything.

He moves you both to lay down on the daybed, pushing your robe to the side and exposing your bare chest. Shawn’s eyes are tracing the trail he wants to make with his lips, but before he begins, he looks into your eyes and kisses you gently, pulling back to exhale.

“Stay with me,” he pleads. “Stay on tour with me for a few days.”

“Shawn I don’t know if I-”

“ _Please_.”

You look into his eyes and you can’t say no. You should be here filming, you  _need_  to be here filming, but your heart wants to go with Shawn. You make a mental note to call Gregg in the morning and apologize profusely, and to call the director and fake sick. It’s not like Gregg won’t have your back, and the director definitely won’t question you.

So you say “Okay,” and your heart flutters at the victorious smile he gives you, pulling you into a dizzying kiss, hands wandering down your torso and between your legs.

-

You’ve been gone from set for three days, the director believing that you had a weird stomach bug, chalking it up to being in a foreign country and lack of sleep and energy. Gregg knew the truth though - you told him the next morning a few hours before the assigned call time for the both of you, and he only laughed at you.

“And you said the two of you were just best friends.”

Tonight has to be the last night that you’re with Shawn, though, and he knows that. He knows by tomorrow morning when they’re off to the next stop, you’ve got to be on a plane back to Barcelona.

“I just want you all to myself.” He said, “I know we haven’t talked much since last month, and I know we haven’t talked this out either, but it’s the truth. I swear we will, eventually, but I just…I need you here right now? And I know you’re missing work and I’m sorry, but I just miss you. I want you with me all the time.”

“I know,” you told him. “You’d do the same for me.”

“I would. In a heartbeat.”

He’s in Munich tonight, singing to a sold out crowd and you’re watching from an area near the sound booth. It’s blocked off and Geoff and Andrew are here with you along with added security, seeing as how you left yours relaxing back in Spain. You watch the show like you always do - as his fan and best friend, screaming along with everyone else in the room.

When “Ruin” starts, you laugh a little inside, remembering that stupid Valentine’s Day prank call, but when Shawn starts to sing it shuts you up and leaves you in awe, partly wishing it _was_  about you if it makes him sing like that.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when he does these crazy runs, and you get lost in the passion in his voice. You’ve always admired the effort he put into performing, knew that he left his heart on the stage every single time, like he was giving a piece of himself to every single person in the audience and hoping they wouldn’t break it, hoping they’d keep it close, keep  _him_ close.

“Munich, how you guys feelin’?!” He asks into the mic, and the screams he gets in return make him smile for a split second. “Now, when you wake up tomorrow morning, and you have no voice, I want this right here to be the reason why!”

The screams are deafening, and your heart is beating fast and heavy against your chest,

“This - this is - this is what music is all about! This is what concerts, and live music is all about! It’s the connection between the arena - the people in the arena - and the person on stage performing. This is what it’s about!”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen this side of Shawn on stage, don’t think you’ve ever literally felt the raw emotion pouring off of him and being fed to you like this before. It’s incredible, and your heart swells with pride. That’s your best friend right there, that’s your boy and he’s performing to a sold out crowd in Germany and you feel like your heart is going to burst.

“If - if you feel - if you feel that there’s a wall here there’s something seriously wrong. You guys gotta be here with me tonight and I need you to scream this with me, alright? Sing _‘Do I ever cross your mind?’_ ”

When he sings, you feel like he’s talking to  _you_ , but then again every girl in the venue probably feels the same way, which is why they scream the lyrics back at him with such passion. But for some reason, you  _want_  it to be you, you want him to want you and you’ve never wanted that before.

Do you want that?

You watch him, lost in amazement at the way in which he grips the mic and sings like he’s fighting for something.

Like he’s fighting for you. For your attention.

At one point, you swear that he’s looking right at you and your heart skips a beat.

What the hell is happening? You’ve never felt like this about Shawn.

Is this what he’s been feeling, this whole time? Is this how you make him feel?

The song ends, lights fading to black as Shawn’s voice fades out, and you decide that you’ve had enough. You leave your spot near the sound booth, retreating back stage and to Shawn’s dressing room.

-

You don’t talk about it after the show. You can tell he’s riding some high and you don’t want to force him to come down, so you keep your mouth shut again, allowing him to keep you close to his side in the car on the way to the hotel, pressing kisses to your hair, forehead, cheeks, and lips every so many seconds.

He wants you both to shower together and you oblige, washing each other playfully and him embracing you under the spray. You dry each other off and climb into bed naked (also his request), and it’s not long before the high he’s riding carries him to sleep, holding you while you lie awake, confused.

_What am I going to do?_


	6. JUNE

“You need to know that I would never betray you like that.” Gregg says, staring into your eyes lovingly, hand on your shoulder.

As directed, you shrug his hand off and turn away, shaking your head in disgust. “But you lied. You lied to me and now my brother is  _dead_.”

“I didn’t kill him.” He insists, “And I didn’t know they were planning to assassinate him.”

You turn, dress flowing with you, and say “But you knew he wouldn’t be safe here, and you did  _nothing_ to protect him, nothing to protect  _me_.”

“Athena please,” Gregg says, “I swear on my life that I…I…fuck! What’s the line?”

You break character and laugh at him, a few others laughing behind the camera. Your director rolls his eyes playfully at Gregg, pretending to be upset. “It’s ‘I swear on my life that I am doing my best to protect you, and your family, and-’”

“‘-And I would never have brought you here if I knew this would happen,’ okay okay, I got it now.” Gregg says, and you can see he’s beating himself up for it a little.

“How about we take a break, huh? That’s lunch!” The director calls, and you sigh with relief, smiling up at Gregg when he gives you a hug.

“Sorry I keep fuckin’ up the lines.” He says sheepishly, hands resting on your arms. “You’re doing great though.”

“You’re not fucking up your lines,” you say, reassuring him. “You’re doing fine.”

You’ve moved on to film at Pinewood Studios in London, having wrapped up in Barcelona ahead of schedule. Gregg’s happy to be home - you’ve been spending a bit of time together and he’s become a great friend of yours, helping you through your issues and sorting out your feelings for Shawn.

“How have you been doing? Spoken to him yet today?”

You shake your head at his question, and he frowns. You knew Shawn would been in town for a few shows at the O2, but you didn’t know if you wanted to go or not. Things didn’t end well in Munich, and there was a lot the two of you didn’t talk about. When you woke up in the morning you were ready to talk it all out, get your feelings straight and tell him while this was new to you, you were no doubt feeling  _something_  for him, and you were willing to try out whatever it was he wanted. Putting your friendship on the line scared you a little bit, but you were fine with taking a chance if he wanted this too.

That conversation never happened. Instead of talking about it, Shawn just said “we’d better get going,” completely throwing you off. He drove you to the airport, didn’t say anything the whole way, kissed you goodbye, and didn’t text or call your for the next three days.

He broke the silence when he sent you a video of him backstage, running around like an idiot and pretending to do parkour. You sent him back a video of you twirling around in your costume dress, and slowly you’ve gone back to texting and calling a little here and there, but it’s definitely not like it was before.

Gregg smiles mischievously at you, and you raise a brow at him. “Let’s ditch.”

You roll your eyes. “Again? We ditched set yesterday for lunch.”

“And we’re doing it again today.” He says, shoving you away a little. “Go to your dressing room and get changed, I’ll meet you in a little bit.”

Something in you wants to hesitate but you oblige, making your way to your trailer, undoing the ties on your dress as you walk. You open the door to your dressing room, throwing on the light and expecting to see your things as you left them, but instead they’re a little disturbed, and a terrified scream comes out of your mouth as you see someone sitting on your couch, reading through a magazine.

“Hello to you too, beautiful.”

“Shawn?!”

He laughs to himself, standing to his full height and puffing his chest out a bit, proud that he thoroughly surprised you..again. You have so many emotions running through your brain but your instincts take over and you run for him, body colliding against his as he remains still, built like a brick wall.

“Hi baby.” He murmurs, the pet name making you melt into his arms, body relaxing against his. So he still liked you, still wanted you - that was a good sign. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You say into his chest. You stand like that for a minute, and you say “fuck it” to yourself. You pull your face back to look at him and he looks down at you in turn, and your hands cup his cheeks and you kiss him, properly, rising up on your toes and hoping to pass along the message of your urgency.

He groans into your mouth, pulling you closer by the waist and your head tilts back, his tongue dipping into your mouth, teasing you. You moan in response when he pulls away, dipping his head into the crevice of your neck, suckling little brusies into your skin.

A knock on the door causes you both to jump, putting a little space between the two of you, Shawn’s hands still on your waist.

Gregg’s head pops through the crack of the door, smiling sweetly at you and Shawn. “Oh good,” he says. “You found him.”

You look between both boys, realization dawning on you. “You did this?” You ask Gregg, then shoving slightly at Shawn’s chest you say “You both planned this?”

Shawn shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Have fun you two!” Gregg calls, then shuts the door behind him. Shawn goes to lock the door behind him, and when he returns to you, he’s smiling, and his hands creep up your waist, fingers dancing across your exposed back. It sends a shiver up your spine, having forgotten that you had undone the ties on your dress, and Shawn bends his head to your shoulder as he pushes the sleeves of your dress off of your arms, leaving you naked above the waist. His lips set your skin alight, and you push your chest out when his hands palm your boobs, and he slowly sits back down on the couch, pulling the rest of your dress down carefully, letting it pool at your feet.

His hands go to the backs of your thighs and pull you toward him, sitting in his lap as your legs bracket his waist. You bring your lips back to his, kissing him and unleashing the fever that’s been building up since you left him last, winding your arms around his neck as he cups your butt in his hands, rubbing and squeezing every now and again.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for awhile now.” He murmurs, cradling your back as he lays you down on the couch. He props himself up on his arms above you, kissing your lips quickly as he begins to move down your body, kissing your chin, your neck, and he pauses at your collarbone.

“I also came to ask you something,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over your skin. “Would you kindly come to my London shows? Tonight and tomorrow night?”

You smirk down at him, and he looks up at you from under his eyelashes, looking impossibly boyish. “Depends,” you croon.

“On?”

“If you can make me come.”

He raises a brow at you and growls, surging up to kiss you fiercely. It’s deliciously intense, his tongue massaging yours and when he pulls away, his teeth bite your lip gently before he sucks it into his mouth, pulling away slowly enough that it makes you arch your body up into his.

“You’d be surprised at the things I can make you do.”

Shawn’s fingers dip into the hem of your underwear and pull down, tossing them over his shoulder. He wastes no time - spreading your legs open and lapping at your dripping center, his large tongue parting your folds and making you cry out with pleasure.

He bites down on the skin of your thigh, warning you to be quiet, before his lips return to where they were, puckering his lips and sucking your clit into his mouth, rubbing his tongue against it in the process. Shawn hasn’t done this to you in a long time - not that he didn’t want to, but often in the moment you’re both impatient, and you just need him inside you.

This time is obviously different, especially if the way your hands are in his hair, pressing his face closer to you is any indication.

It’s not much longer until you’re coming, and he doesn’t pull away, just buries his face closer, not letting one drop get past him.

He plants little kisses around the now sensitive area, his hands rubbing your stomach as you come down, breathing evening out and shaking a little with it all.

You lean your head up, looking at him and he’s already watching you from under his lashes. You groan, putting your hand over his eyes and tossing your head back. “Don’t look at me like that,” you say. “I might come again just from the sight of you.”

He laughs against your skin, moving your hand and kissing your fingertips. “Sorry, can’t help the way I look.”

You shrug, staring at the ceiling. “You could go bald.”

He blanches, shaking his head. When he does, you flinch at how sensitive you are, pushing him away from your legs. He just laughs, moving his body to rest his head on your stomach. “Are you hungry?” Shawn questions. “I know your director called for lunch, so if you’re hungry we can always go get you something to eat.”

“Can we just lay here for a bit?” You ask, pointing to the throw blanket laying on the arm of the couch. Shawn sits up carefully, pulling the blanket over the both of you as he resumes his position. “Where are you staying while you’re in town?”

Shawn shrugs, taking one of your hands in his to play with. “The bus I guess. We’re only here tonight and tomorrow night, but after the show tomorrow we have to drive so we didn’t get a hotel.”

You place your free hand in his hair, tell him “If you want, you can stay with me tonight? If you want a bed and not the bunk. The production company put us all up in our own flats, and it’d be just you and I.”

“I do want.” The way he says it makes you laugh, and he tickles your sides a little bit, happy to hear the sound. “I’m glad you’re happy, because I’m happy.”

“And why is that?” You question, tugging at his curls.

“Because I made you come, and now you’re coming to my shows.”

-

You feel like you’re back in Munich, and you feel like your heart is going to leap out of your chest with how much pride you have for this boy.

He’s just starting “Bad Reputation,” the opening chords giving you that haunting feeling, making you feel like you’re in a trance. He can see you from where you’re standing with Geoff and Andrew again, keeps staring at you while he’s singing and you feel like you’re going to melt into the ground.

Shawn is just so fucking beautiful.

As the song progresses, so does his voice. It’s like he’s possessed - the passion, the grit, it’s insanity. Haunting, dark, raw, sexy, and the crazy ass runs he’s pulling off make you literally moan out loud.

“God he’s so fucking beautiful” You say out loud. Geoff laughs from next to you. You make eye contact with Shawn from where you are and he smiles widely, pointing at you from stage quickly before going back to playing guitar.

You’re starting to fall for him and you can’t hide it, you don’t want to hide it anymore.

Except in realizing how beautiful you are and how much you mean to him, how much he loves you and how much you love him, now  _he’s_  starting to freak out, doesn’t want you to get in a relationship with him in fear that he’ll mess it all up, that he’ll ruin everything you both have and come to find his feelings should’ve been kept to himself.


	7. JULY

You’re in Portland, Oregon, sitting quietly with Charlie in Shawn’s dressing room, waiting for him to walk through the door to surprise  _him_  for once. After the way things ended in London you were more than ready to jump into this with Shawn, heart first and giving your all to him, the way he’s wanted, the way you’ve wanted deep down since that first time last year.

Despite the fact that the both of you haven’t spoken since then, you know that it’s now or never.

Charlie nudges you in the side as footsteps approach, and when Shawn opens the door, you and Charlie yell “SURPRISE!” pulling the strings on the party poppers in your hands.

Shawn laughs, smiling at the both of you - but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and you know something is off.

_Strike one._

He hugs Charlie first, then hugs you second, pulling you close and you go to kiss him, but he turns his head and your lips land on his cheek instead.

_Strike two._

It throws you off, and you want to pull back to ask him what’s going on, but he winds his arms around your shoulders. “I could literally cry tears of joy now that you’re here.” He says in your ear. “I’ve just been super stressed and tired and all I want is my best friend to help me relax.”

When he says “best friend” it stabs you in the heart a little. You thought after last month in London, that you were ready to fall for him, to accept it, but the way he says “best friend” is different from before. It’s like…like he means it.

_Strike three._

Maybe you took too long. Maybe he doesn’t have feelings for you anymore.

You pull away from him, forcing a smile on your face and keeping your hands to your sides.

Shawn can see it - can see you pulling away and thinks back to London - how afraid he felt, and still feels, that he might mess things up if they go any further and that if it all goes to shit, then he never should have told you how he felt, he never should have kissed you that first time and how he never should have touched you so intimately.

But things haven’t gone to shit - yet. And maybe if he pulls back, lets you pull back, he’ll still have you as his best friend and not as an ex-girlfriend.

He just wants you in his life.

You want to be in his life, you want to be his girlfriend yet he’s pushing you away. He hasn’t called you his “best friend” in a long time like that, hasn’t evaded you like that before.

Charlie, bless his heart, is oblivious to it all and slings his arm around the both of you, directing you toward catering.

You feel so fucking stupid, why did you come here if he didn’t want you? Maybe this is why he’s been the one doing all the surprising, cause you definitely did not come at a good time if the way he’s acting is any indication. Maybe you should’ve texted him ahead of time, double checked that you were still on good terms before you bought a ticket and left your set and put your heart on the fucking line.

Charlie, Shawn, and the crew all sit down to eat, getting food in before the show in a few hours.

You slowly detach from the group, going back and finding an empty dressing room in the venue, locking it behind you. You sink back against the door pathetically, getting ready to cry with how much this is getting on your nerves.

Immediately, you pull out your phone, Facetiming Jack J and hoping he’d answer, considering you have no idea where he is in the world or what he’s doing.

He does answer, thankfully, and when he sees the look on your face, he immediately frowns.

“What did he do? I love the guy but I’ll fucking kill him if he hurt you.”

You mean to laugh, but what comes out instead is a sob, and you cover your face with your free hand, not wanting Johnson to see you break like this.

“No no no please don’t cry, hey, look at me okay? It’s fine, I won’t kill him, just talk to me.”

You wipe your tears away and suck in a deep breath, sighing at the camera. Johnson still looks pissed, but you can see his first emotion is concern for you.

“I just,” you sigh. “I thought he and I were going somewhere, you know? Like, we’ve been sleeping together a lot, and we’ve also been like going on dates, and we’ve been seeing each other every month between schedules and - and I thought we were getting somewhere, you know? Like I thought…I thought we were a thing, and I get here to surprise him and now…now we’re not a thing? He said I was his ‘best friend’ and he hasn’t called me that in months, and he barely even hugged me, barely even looked at me! And when I went to kiss him, he fucking curved me J. But I’m overreacting, aren’t I?”

J blinks at you, and then he shuts his eyes, exhaling in a groan. “No, you’re not overreacting. Not at all. Shawn likes you, he loves you even, maybe, and all this you’re talking about doesn’t show it, so you have a right to react this way.” You start crying again, and J sighs. “Boys are stupid, okay? We as the male species are idiots. And Shawn…look I don’t know what’s going on in his head, okay? But all I know is that when I talked to him last month, he said he was head over heels for you. So I don’t know why this is happening or what’s going on, but if you think he’s backing out, then you have every right to leave, okay?”

“I don’t know what I did wrong, J.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? Don’t think that way. Just be there for him tonight, and then go. You don’t owe him anything if he doesn’t want you there.” The truth of what Jack is saying hits you hard, and you start crying again, sobs leaving your throat.

There’s a knock on the door, and you hear Charlie calling your name. You look at Jack, and he nods. “It’s okay, you can call me back later, alright? Just stay strong - you know your worth and that’s all that matters. And if Shawn can’t see that, then you have every right to walk.”

You say a quick goodbye before pocketing your phone and standing, dusting off your jeans and using your sleeve to wipe your eyes. You take a deep breath and open the door, and Charlie just stares at you, taking in your sad state before he wraps his arms around you, pulling you out of the room and into a hug.

“You love him, don’t you?” He asks quietly. You nod into his neck and start crying again, can’t help the feeling that your heart is fucking broken and you don’t know if you’re being emotional, if you’re overreacting, if your fucking period is on its way or if you’re just a stupid girl.

“Sing with me tonight,” Charlie says.

You immediately shake your head ‘no,’ the thought of singing when you’re like this immediately pegs itself as a bad idea. “I don’t sing, Charlie.”

He laughs. “Don’t bullshit me.” He pulls back, keeping one hand on your shoulder and uses the sleeves of his hoodie to wipe your eyes. “You sing and we all know it. Besides, he doesn’t have to know it’s about him, right? You’re just singing the female part in my song and that’s all it’ll be. Cool?”

Your rampant emotions have you saying yes, and Charlie smiles in victory, hugging you again.

From down the hallway, Geoff, Josiah, and Matt see Charlie’s signal that no, you’re not okay, and Geoff turns to make sure Shawn isn’t paying attention to what they’re doing. He’s not, which gives Geoff the chance to stare at the back of Shawn’s head in disbelief.

_What’s happening? When did this all go to shit?_

“What the fuck is going on?” Josiah whispers, and Matt shakes his head.

“Don’t, just drop it.”

-

From the sidelines, you watch as Charlie sits on the piano bench, playing a few keys before leaning into the mic. Geoff makes sure your in ears are secure, and places the mic pack in the back pocket of your jeans. You’re sweating and nervous with anticipation, but you know that you want to do this, but you also don’t want to cause any trouble.

That fear is dispelled when Andrew squeezes your shoulder in support, saying “go kill it out there kid, show em’ what you’re made of.”

“I want to bring out a really good friend of mine to sing this song, since Selena can’t be here and all,” Charlie begins, and looks to you, giving you a nod.

Charlie begins to play “We Don’t Talk Anymore,” and with a little shove from Geoff, you chime in, singing along with him as you make your way on stage. The screams from the crowd are deafening, and you can’t deny that you’re surprised.

The crowd is absolutely amazed that you can sing. You posted videos of yourself on Instagram before and you’d been in many of your friends’ Snapchats singing in the car or at karaoke, so it was no question that you could carry a tune, but not  _sing_. Like career worthy sing.

You sing with emotion - feel like you can relate to all those stupid heartbreak songs now that you’ve lost the chance you thought you had with Shawn. Guess you’re both just better off as friends.

Unbeknownst to you, the sounds of the fans screaming lured Shawn out and brought him to the side of the stage, where he’s watching you sing with Charlie, and feels like he’s going to start crying with adoration.

How could he be such an  _idiot._  Seeing you out there under the stage lights, beautiful, and radiant, he feels stupid for pushing you away like that.

You’re  _his_  girl - he’s so stupid to have doubted any second of it. Stupid to assume that something bad would come of the the two of you ending up together. He loves you and you love him and he can see that his actions have begun to push you away and he doesn’t want that - can’t stand that, but it’s happening and it’s all his fault.


	8. AUGUST

You’re still hungover and slightly tired as your manager Kennedy guides you through the building, hair still wet around your shoulders from your shower this morning. You and Shawn just flew back into New York City from Toronto after celebrating his nineteenth birthday, the birthday boy himself still sleeping at your place.

You felt weird with him coming back with you - especially after the way you left things in Portland. You tried to encourage him to stay home in Toronto, or even go to Pickering to be with his family, but he denied it. He hopped right onto that private flight with you and said he’d stay at your place, said he wanted to be with you for a couple days to relax and enjoy being nineteen before starting the tour again in Toronto.

Though you’re not sure why, given that you’re just best friends now, that he would want to be alone with you.

You’re introduced to the production team at the station and the DJ who will be interviewing you, though you miss a large portion of what’s being said because your head is still pounding. You take the hot tea they offer you with much appreciation, indulging in a large sip and praying this interview goes smoothly. You know they’re going to talk to you about Shawn - they always do - but this time you’re just hoping that the questions don’t bring up the things you’re not ready to feel again.

The radio DJ - whose name you can’t remember - says your name, cheerful and playful as they always do, before going through a list of things to talk about. He starts off by discussing your most recent film that you just finished filming in Barcelona and London, the action film you’re in that’s coming out in October, the cameos you did in “The 100” and “Reign” that you filmed toward the end of last year, and he segways into the video Shawn posted of you singing in the shower on Instagram yesterday.

“That was at his house actually,” you clarify. “His birthday part was last night in Toronto, so Charlie - Charlie Puth and I flew in earlier this week to celebrate with him and all of our friends, and I stayed in the guest room at his house. He woke up yesterday morning before the party, and I guess he like snuck into the bathroom to pee while I was in the shower. The little punk.”

The DJ laughs, “I mean on the bright side he’s gathered more proof that you  _do_  sing, as if you singing with Charlie Puth last month wasn’t proof enough.” He says. “And Shawn seems to be pretty fond of it - I mean, he would know, right? Since he is a popstar. He captioned it saying ‘when your best friend sings better than you do.’ How do you feel about that?”

You laugh genuinely, “Well first off he’s wrong. I don’t sing better than he does. And Charlie was just having fun and wanted me to join him. But Shawn and Charlie both have awards for singing, and I’m pretty sure I don’t. And second, Shawn needs to stop secretly recording me and then posting it because I have some secret recordings of my own that I have yet to post.”

The DJ laughs. “Uh oh, sounds like Mendes better watch out. But on the serious side, you two have been friends for quite some time now. Is it easy being friends with him?”

“It’s definitely easy, especially given that we’re both in this industry - though different parts of it - we’re both young and trying to navigate this spotlight, and having that best friend by your side who knows exactly what you’re going through is really nice.”

“And it shows - I mean you’re always hanging out, going to the movies, he’s always on your movie sets and you’re almost always at one of his shows, and last month he was even staying at your house? Have you always been close friends?”

_I thought we were more, actually._

“Yeah I mean since we met it’s kind of been really easy just being super close with Shawn, and I think part of it is just how comfortable we are with the other? And honest as well - a lot of times in this industry you can’t tell who’s real and who’s fake, so it’s nice to have someone to be completely honest with. Like we kind of made this promise when we realized we were becoming good friends that we were never going to lie to each other, we’re always one hundred percent real with each other, and it’s part of what makes us work.”

“Kind of sounds like you guys are in a relationship.” That awkward bubble of discomfort fills your stomach. The DJ laughs about it, but you don’t. After everything that’s happened this year, and after last month, it’s not something you want to talk about anymore.

“I mean not really.” You say, thinking back to Portland, how he said ‘best friend’ like he was trying to drill home the point, how he didn’t kiss you, the way he kept you at a distance. You think of how he started to push you away, and you can’t deny the fact that it hurt you. “I mean yeah we do what you just said, hang out, support the other, but it’s just as best friends. Not that Shawn wouldn’t be a good boyfriend, but I’m definitely not looking and I know he isn’t either.”

“So just friends? That’s your final answer?”

“That’ll always be my final answer.” You? In a relationship with Shawn?

After everything that’s happened, after everything you’ve both been through this year you thought you would be in a relationship, you were ready for one, but after you saw him last month it was like he pushed you away. So maybe it was just a fun thing while it lasted, right?

-

As the interview ends, Shawn closes his laptop, ripping his earbuds out and tossing them both onto your bed. You’d kill him if you knew he listened in, hate when he does it, but he couldn’t help it.

Head in his hands, your words are on a loop in his brain.

_“That’ll always be my final answer.”_

Just friends? All those drunken nights you spent in his bed, the times he held you in your darkest hours, how you were the first person on his mind when something amazing happened, hell, he lived with you for six months and was practically your husband. He told you it was because his place was being renovated, but in truth, the renovations finished after the first two months, but he stuck around for  _you._

He cooked dinner for you (he was a shitty cook in the first place but he learned to cook so he could make dinner for you when you got home), he paid half of all the bills, washed your clothes, brushed your hair, bought groceries, even surprised you by buying you furniture you wanted from IKEA.

He bought you flowers every week, made you coffee and tea, played songs for you on his guitar, he even ran lines with you into the late morning hours until you fell asleep on his chest from exhaustion. Even considering everything the two of you have been through this year, the sex, dates, flying out to see the other.

Shawn thought you were both on the same page, but now he can see what he did last month changed it all. He was definitely more than just your friend at this point, and it was killing him that he ruined all of it.

His phone vibrates next to him, signaling a text.

_“Interview done, on my way back home.”_

There’s a tight feeling in his chest - he’s angry. Angry that he flew in last night, right after his birthday and days before his show in Toronto, to only listen to you tell the radio and the world that he basically didn’t mean anything to you, that you were just his friend. Though he had no one to blame but himself, he knew deep down that he still meant more than that to you and you knew it. He’s going to make sure you know it.

-

You sigh with relief when you finally reach your place, ready to just change into sweatpants and be lazy for the rest of the day with your best friend. When you open the door to your bedroom, you half expect Shawn to be laying on your bed, watching something on TV, snacks from your kitchen scattered everywhere. But to your surprise, the room is dark, only the little fairy lights are on, the TV is off, and he’s sitting in the bay window, bottle of whiskey open on the cushion in front of him, half gone.

“Shawn?” Your voice is laced with confusion, closing the door behind you. “What’s wrong?”

“You tell me.” He’s angry. “We’re just friends and that’s always going to be your final answer?”

Realization dawns on you. “You listened to the interview.” You’re slightly upset now, stepping into the room and tossing your bag onto the dresser. “Shawn you know I don’t like when you-”

“I know.” He raises his voice slightly. “You don’t like when I listen in because you don’t want me to misunderstand. And I get it. But how could I possibly misunderstand something like that? I thought we were more than that.”

“More than that?” You cannot  _believe_  this conversation is happening right now. “But last month  _you_  were the one who-”

“I know.” He interrupts. “I fucked up. I did. And I’m sorry.”

You just stare at him sadly. You don’t really have any fight left in you at this point. All you can do is listen.

“I was scared. I was terrified that everything I ever wanted with you was going to be ruined because of me. I thought…I didn’t think I was worthy enough to have this. I still don’t. But I also know that you can’t deny what we have..” His words drip from his lips like honey, slow and sweet and thick. He stands suddenly, his tall figure intimidating you for the first time since you’ve met. He’s moving, approaching you and backing you into the wall.

He brings one hand up to your throat, not squeezing, just resting it loosely, while his other hand caresses the sides of your face, almost taunting you to move, to challenge him. “You can’t deny what we have, no matter how hard you try.” His body is pressed against yours, pinning youl. He scoffs. “Final answer? Final answer my ass. We’re not ‘just friends.’ We haven’t been ‘just friends’ for months. And you know it.”

Shawn moves his thumb that’s resting on your throat, kissing the now exposed skin. You feel him nip at the area, and when you gasp, he licks over the spot, making you moan. “You can’t stop this.” He says. “You can’t deny the way that I make you feel. And I can’t deny the way you make me feel.”

“How do I make you feel?” You whisper, daring him to answer, daring him to be honest.

“Well,” he says seductively, “let’s just say that when you came to Toronto for my birthday, I was hoping for a more satisfying present. Not that the watch you bought me isn’t beautiful, but you can’t quite unwrap it the way I hoped to unwrap you.”

-

You’re relaxing on one of the lounge chairs in the backyard of Jack J and Jack G’s house, both boys having gone to bed a few minutes ago, but you’re up waiting for Shawn to come back.

He’s in town to film MTV Unplugged - and you flew in with him, having resolved things somewhat in New York.

You stayed on tour with him all month after that, spending time together to clear the air and get yourselves back to where you were before Shawn got too much in his head and began to doubt everything.

He had offered for you to come and watch him perform, but you stayed back, having a nice night in with Jack and Jack, catching up with them, and catching them up to speed on you and Shawn.

“We saw him in London, you know.” Gilinsky said. “Not long after you left, we went out to dinner and stuff. Talked about you a lot.”

“Good things I hope.” You had said, smiling.

Johnson smiled. “They were. Also, glad to see things worked out.”

You were glad they worked out too, really glad.

You hear keys in the front door and you know Shawn is home, but instead of going to great him, you remain outside, figuring he’ll come to you if he wants to.

And he does, he’s still in his performance clothes - black jeans and a button up shirt, hair sweaty and curly, his face flushed. He kisses you softly in greeting and you make room for his large frame to join you on the chair.

You sit in silence, let him relax and get rid of his leftover adrenaline, and he burrows himself in your arms, sighing in content. “Remind me to thank Johnson in the morning, okay?”

You laugh. “Thank him for what?”

“For you.”


	9. SEPTEMBER

A blaring alarm interrupts your peaceful meditation, sensitive to your still hungover ears. Your eyes snap open and a loud frustrated groan leaves your lips. “Stupid boy.” You mutter aloud. You quickly unfold your legs and roll up your yoga mat, storing them in their cubbies and blowing out the candles you lit at the beginning of your yoga session. Grabbing your phone, you throw your sweater back on and shut the lights off in your little studio.

The alarm gets louder and louder as you climb the stairs back to the first floor, and even louder when you head upstairs to your room. When you open your door, you see the resting body of your hungover best friend, his phone on the nightstand at full volume while he snores blissfully unaware. You turn it off and look at the notifications on his phone - texts from Geoff, Ian, Josiah, and Zubin, and missed calls from his mother - before locking it. You climb onto your side of the bed, sitting on your knees and facing the back of his sleeping figure.

“Shawn.” You call, but he doesn’t stir. You move the covers down, exposing his back, and gently scratch at it with your nails, moving up and down. You keep scratching and he stirs slightly, but he’s not awake just yet. You move your hand into his hair, scritching lightly on his scalp, twirling his locks between your fingers every now and again.  He sighs gently, which lets you know he’s coming to. “Don’t get a haircut.” You say quietly, and you can hear him chuckle softly, his head tilting back into your hand.

“You said I needed one last night.” His voice is rough from sleep, deep and quiet. It calms you slightly. “Said I was shaggy.”

“Changed my mind.” You tug on a curl - hard enough to make a point but gentle enough that it doesn’t actually hurt. “Told you not to set an alarm cause you wouldn’t wake up to it.”

“I set it because I knew you’d turn it off and come wake me up.” Shawn’s tone is playful, and he finally turns to face you, some smart ass remark on his lips, but he completely freezes when he looks at you. There’s a split second where his face turns red, and his morning wood throbs. His eyes don’t leave your body and you look at him in confusion. It’s then you remember what you’re wearing - a high cut black leotard, a cropped sweater, leg warmers on your shins and covering your heel, and with the AC on in your room your nipples and nipple piercings are perked up.

“It helps with flexibility during yoga.” You answer his unspoken question. His hands instinctively circle your hips, and he effortlessly pulls your body on top of his, making you straddle his waist. Your heart beats in your chest, the way he’s looking at you makes you feel nervous, self conscious almost, but you don’t want him to stop looking at you like that.

“Flexibility.” He murmurs, stroking your sides lightly. You know where this is going - where he wants it to go, the positive side of last night’s events resurfacing. The two of you went to celebrate Jack G’s birthday - the club, the music, the drinks, the way you both danced together on the floor, his hands everywhere on you.

The way he said  _“let’s go home, baby”_  like he’s said it his entire life, like he’s had practice, like you’ve heard him say it a million times. The ride home, him driving your car with one hand, his other hand between your legs while you squirmed in the passenger seat. And when you finally did make it back to your place, he took you on the living room couch, the kitchen counter, and the stairs before you made it to your bed.

Part of you wants to go along with it, wants to cave in and let him do what he wants, what you both want. Instead, you remember that the two of you have things to take care of, and shove all of those thoughts aside and roll your eyes. “Just shut up and go shower if you want me to bring you to the airport, Shawn.”

He sighs, and moves both of you into a sitting position, covers falling down as he lays back against your headboard. “Do you need to shower?”

“I can go after you.” You say, climbing off of him and off of the bed. You head over to your walk in closet, and Shawn can’t help but stare as you walk away, watching your legs, your butt, and he wants to follow you into, but doesn’t. Instead, he tears his eyes away, looking for his sweatpants on the ground when you come out of the closet, his sweatpants on your hips.

He rolls his eyes at you, because his sweats are definitely too big on your small frame, and you’ve tied them up as tight as you can, rolled the waistband down, and rolled up the legs to be able to fit on your body. “I need those.” He says. His dick is straining against his boxers with all the ways he could take them off of you.

“You have another pair in your suitcase. I know because I packed it. Besides, these are my new lazy pants.” You say, choosing to be oblivious to his struggle. “You want breakfast? A smoothie?”

“Sure,” He says, and hands you his phone. “Answer it if anyone calls?”

“Of course.” You say, and head downstairs. Turning the light on in the kitchen, you start grabbing what you need out of the fridge and pantry, and get to work - making sure to clean the kitchen counter first. You’re halfway through whisking together the egg whites for your omelettes when Shawn’s phone rings again, and you answer it without looking at the ID.

“Shawn Mendes’ phone. How may I assist you?”

A lighthearted laugh graces your ears. “Is he still sleeping then?”

“Hi Karen!” You say, “and no, I just woke him up. He’s in the shower.” You quickly add the spinach and cheese to the egg whites and pour it into the pan, placing the phone on speaker.

“Well good.” She says. “He’s lucky to have you.” Something about the way she says it makes you go numb for a second, nearly missing when she asks “What are your plans for the day?”

“Well Shawn and I are carpooling to the studio.” You lie easily. She doesn’t know that Shawn’s actually flying home in an hour and a half for Aaliyah’s birthday. “So while he’s recording, I’ll be recording, and then we’re both pretty much in meetings for the rest of the day.”

She sighs, motherly instincts coming out. “You both work so hard. I wish you could take a break more often.”

You smile to yourself. “I know, I do too. But on the bright side, the gifts that Shawn and I got for Aaliyah should be arriving by mail by two this afternoon.”  _The same time that Shawn should be arriving at your doorstep to surprise you all._

“She’ll be thrilled. Oh! And congratulations, hon. Shawn told me you just wrapped the movie you were filming! And to think you have another one coming out next month!”

“Thank you!” You say, flipping the omelette over. “I did yes, we wrapped a couple days ago.”

“And are you excited? I’m excited. When does it come out? Can you give me any hints?”

You laugh. “I can’t give away anything big but the one I just finished comes out next summer. But I do hope to see you at the premiere next month!”

You set Shawn’s omelette on a plate the minute he walks into the kitchen, torso bare and black jeans low on his hips, his wet curls dripping on his skin. He’s trying to tempt you, and you’re going to make sure it doesn’t work. He takes a seat at the kitchen island, sitting near where you’re standing, placing one arm around your waist to pull you close before digging into his breakfast. “Mom don’t harass her, she’s contractually bound to secrecy.”

“Hi Sweetie,” she calls. “Don’t forget to call your sister later today okay? Since you’ll be a little busy tomorrow. She’s at practice right now but she’ll be home around one thirty.”

“He won’t forget,” you say for him. “He has a reminder set on his phone.”

Shawn waggles his eyebrows at you and kisses your side, thankful for the lie. “I promise I won’t forget mom. But we have to go now.”

You turn in his grip, his hands resting on your waist now, and put almond milk, ice, bananas, peanut butter, and vanilla protein powder in the blender. Shawn tells his mom that you still need to shower and get dressed before you head to the studio, and they say a quick goodbye. You turn the blender on as soon as they hang up, pouring the contents into both of your Starbucks to go cups, sliding Shawn’s to him.

“Thanks,” he says, mouthful of omelette. “Now what are you actually doing today?”

“Well I am going to the studio,” you admit, quickly moving along when you see the look in his eyes, “and then I have a meeting with my agent later today. But other than that, nothing. Also, Andrew wanted me to tell you not to forget that Geoff is picking you up from the airport in your car, so you have to go to your apartment in Toronto first so you can drop him off so he can get his car before you head to Pickering. And your flight leaves tomorrow at two, so you’ll be back in town with time to get ready for Fallon, and then right after you’re going to Brazil. Okay?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “Yes baby I know.”

You swat at him playfully. “I’m being serious. I know you’re gonna forget. And don’t forget that the  _blue_  suitcase has all of Aaliyah’s presents in them. I’ve wrapped the ‘fragile’ tape around it, so hopefully TSA will be gentle with your bags. And no stops. You’re supposed to be there at. Two. On. The. Dot.”

“I’ll be fine,” he insists, taking a sip of the smoothie. “Now, you said you’re going to the studio?”

“I’m going to shower now.” You cut him off, twisting out of his grip and heading upstairs before Shawn can say anything. You don’t want to have the “music” conversation with him again. Ever since last month, Shawn’s been bugging you about singing with him, possibly recording something for the third album but you’ve been evading it. It’s not that you don’t want to sing with him, but you’re an actress first, and you’re nowhere near as talented as he is.

After your shower, you throw on a pair of leggings and hoodie, grabbing your purse and car keys on your way back downstairs. Shawn’s sitting on the couch, fully dressed now, watching Prisoner of Azkaban and eating a banana from your fruit bowl.

“Ready to go?” You ask, slipping on your shoes.

Shawn nods, standing to toss the peel in the trash and joins you at the door, slipping on his shoes. You help him load up his luggage into your car and peel out of your garage, heading for the airport.

“You should be coming with me,” Shawn says. “Aaliyah would want you there too.”

“Yeah but she hasn’t seen you in months, and I’m sure she’d want to spend time with you. I’ll see her again soon.”

“Well…what if _I_ want you there with me?” He reaches for your hand when he asks, lacing his fingers with yours and bringing the back of your hands to his lips. You’ve been alright all morning, but in this moment, you think back to last night, and what Shawn said, and you freeze up, keeping your eyes on the road.

The tension in the car starts to build, and Shawn can see it, can see you’re thinking back to last night and he wants to stop it. “We should talk about last night.” He says, turning in his seat to look at you. Your eyes spell panic, and he sighs internally, can tell you’re starting to close off again. You’d rather avoid this conversation, want to say it’s no big deal, but it kind of is. Shawn knows you’re not going to say anything first, so he takes the opportunity to say what he needs to say.

“We both know that what we’ve done this year isn’t what best friends do. You said we were fine last night, and you weren’t awkward or upset this morning, you let me in. You let me touch you and hold you, and it was nice. Wasn’t it? So what happened last night proves we’re not just friends anymore, so I don’t know why you’re so upset that I said what I said.”

“We didn’t talk about it.”

“Do we have to talk about it? Is that really a conversation we need to have when it’s already kind of been established?”

“Shawn, we-”

“No, I thought we moved past this. I thought we discussed this last time. For fucks sake, I mean I’ve seen you once a month this entire year. And everytime that I’ve seen you, we’ve done  _something_. I’ve kissed you, I’ve taken you on dates, we’ve had sex. I’ve gone out of my way this year to see you - specifically you - and yet you refuse to acknowledge  _us_ , and honestly? I have every right to call you my girlfriend. I have every right and the fact that you won’t let me makes no sense, and it’s starting to piss me off.”

You finally glance over at him, incredulity spread all over your face. “Excuse me?” You turn your eyes back to the road, deciding it’s better that way. “Piss  _you_  off? It’s pissing me off that you don’t understand why I’m kind of upset. I get that we’re more than friends, okay? I get that, I see that, but I what I don’t understand is why you think we don’t have to talk about what we are?

“Because we don’t have to talk about it - we can just let it happen. But  _you_  won’t let it happen. You don’t even have a good reason for putting this off anymore. You know that last night and today was totally fine. I mean for fucks sake, think of tour rehearsals, Barcelona, Munich, London, Portland, my fucking birthday, you  _felt_ something for me, I could tell. And I can tell that no matter how hard you try to push your feelings for me away that you still love me, so what the fuck is your deal? Are you scared or something? Are you scared of being with me?”

“No! Shawn, that’s not it-”

“Then what is it? Huh? I don’t get it. I don’t get why you won’t just let us be happy together. Let me call you my girlfriend, and you can call me your boyfriend. It’s what we are and you know I’m right.”

You don’t respond, don’t have the words to say to him.

The rest of the car ride is quiet, Shawn texting someone while you continue to drive, the radio playing softly in the background.

You pull into the entrance for private flights, pulling through the gate and into a parking space. The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, before Shawn leans over and kisses you, firm, sure, and slow, his hands cupping your face. You kiss him back, not fighting it or him, one hand on his shoulder, the other going behind his head, taking a fistful of his curls.

When you both finally pull away, he’s breathing heavy, looking at you under his eyelashes. “Will you just  _promise_  me that you’ll think about this? About us? We were so close…we were so close to getting this right, we can still do that. We can.”

You don’t want to open your mouth, don’t want to say something stupid to ruin this moment, so you just nod at him, and he smiles, accepting it as an answer. You help him gather his bags and walk him to the gate, giving him a long hug. You’ll see him tomorrow night, when you say goodbye to him before he leaves for Brazil, but for some reason this goodbye feels important.

“I just want you to know, no matter what happens, you’re mine. I don’t see you as anything else but my girlfriend at this point. You’ve always been my girl and you’ll always be my girl, and I’m your boy, always have been, always will be.” In case there’s paparazzi waiting around, he whispers “Olive juice.”

You blush in response, say “Olive juice too” before he plants a kiss on your forehead, grabbing his bags and walking away.

Your mind is racing at a million miles an hour on your way back to your car, and you take a moment to just sit in silence, reflecting on the events that just happened when your phone buzzes. You immediately grab for it, expecting Shawn, but sigh out of slight disappointment when you see it’s only Charlie.

_“I just kissed a radio host. Can I FaceTime you with my mini freak out?”_

You roll your eyes, but text back “yes,” placing your phone back in its holster. You start driving again, taking the second to answer Charlie’s call.

“I’m driving but I’m listening, so please entertain me because I feel like shit.” You tell Charlie, seeing his face from the corner of your eye.

“Ohhh, trouble in paradise with Mr. Mendes?” He teases.

“No. Shut up. You kissed a radio host?”

“Ughhhh!” He screams. It echoes a bit in the quiet car. “It was this stupid dare to kiss someone in the room and she was the only girl, so I went to kiss her and then she rejected me! And then when I did kiss her she complained that I used tongue.”

You laugh out loud, glancing at the phone quickly to see his disgruntled expression. “Well that’s a problem. What station is this?”

“Capital FM.”

“London?”

“Yeah, it was Lilah.”

You laugh again, and Charlie huffs in annoyance. You’ve been on their show before and Lilah is a sweet girl, and you can only imagine her embarrassment. “I’m sure she’s freaking out just as much as you are.”

“I’m going to direct this conversation from my embarrassment to your problems, because you’re wearing your ‘I’m stressed out’ face and I need you to talk about it. What’s going on with you and Shawn?”

You groan, keeping your eyes trained on the road to give you something to focus on so you don’t cry. “So last month was fine. Like…we were doing okay, we got over what happened in Portland and worked everything out, and then last night we went to Jack G’s birthday party here in NYC, he stayed with me last night, and I told him that I’d help him get ready to go to Toronto to surprise his little sister for her birthday, which is today. And everything was fine until last night.”

“Well what happened last night?”

You sigh, turning into your neighborhood. “So we get there, and he and I are saying hello to a few people that we know, and then we get introduced to someone, and Shawn steps right on in there and introduces himself, then me, and then says that I’m his girlfriend.”

There’s a pause, and you pull into your garage, grabbing your phone and heading back inside, flopping down on the couch. “You still there?” You look at your screen and Charlie is looking at you in confusion. “What?”

Charlie shrugs. “What’s wrong with that?”

You scoff. “I’m  _not_ his girlfriend, Charlie. We didn’t even talk about it.”

“I mean…do you really have to? The way you two act, the way you two have been all year from what I know and what I’ve heard, you’re definitely in a relationship with him.”

“We’re not in a relationship.”

Charlie raises a brow at you. “Tell me something then. You said he stayed with you last night. Did you make him breakfast this morning?” Your blush gives it away. “Uh huh. And he’s going home to see his sister? Did you pack his suitcase?” You flush deeper, turning away from the camera.

“I rest my case.” He says. “You’re his girlfriend. You already act like, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have said it if you weren’t already acting like the two of you were in a relationship. Now you just have to own up to it.”


	10. OCTOBER

Waking up feels strange - you’re not used to your new bedroom, and you’re definitely not used to your bed just yet.

You bought a small little one bedroom place in LA - wanted somewhere you could go when you were sick of New York City and its cold weather that was bound to come in the next few months. It was nice and cozy, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city, similar to your place in New York, overlooking the LA skyline.

What woke you was the curtains in your bedroom being drawn, allowing the bright sunlight in, and you stare through narrowed eyes at the person who would do such a cruel thing.

“Is there a particular reason you’ve woken me up?”

Shawn smirks, arms crossing over his bare chest and his soft curls hanging over his head. “I just thought you might want breakfast.”

You laugh, but inside your stomach swoops at how sweet he’s being. Rolling onto your side to stare at him, the covers falling from around you. “Since when do you make breakfast?”

He scoffs, pulling the covers down to your waist. “I think I can manage bacon, eggs, and pancakes, thank you very much.” He pinches your sides for added effect, smiling down at you when you giggle at his touch.

The daylight surrounds him from behind, creating a beautiful glow around him and that’s a sign if you’ve ever seen one.

It makes your heart skip a beat, and you want to tell him here and now that you’ll be his everything, hell, you’d be his wife if that’s what he wants.

You’ve always liked Shawn best like this - soft and boyish in his features, but relaxed, a kind of comfort you’ve always felt from material things but never from a person.

Maybe that’s what you’ll remember in the future - this moment, Shawn surrounded by sunlight, soft skin, curly bed head, and skin glowing, waking you up for breakfast. Maybe you’ll remember this exact moment and know, that’s when you realized you were in love with him, and you weren’t going anywhere.

“Plus,” he says, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Your movie premiere is tonight. Pretty big deal, figured you’d want to start the day early.”

The action movie you filmed last year - the second one in your career and your first action movie ever.

It was the one you filmed mostly in New York while Shawn was living with you, one that you were proud of and ready for the world to see, and you’d be seeing it for the first time as well yourself.

Shawn agreed to be your date for tonight when you asked him, said he wanted nothing more than to show you the support you deserved after all the support you showed him this year. He was on a brief vacation from tour, and of course he wanted to spend it with you. What else was there to do?

You also knew that you two had some unfinished business, and while you were ready to talk about it now, Shawn was deliberately putting it off - he wanted you to enjoy this night, wanted you to be able recognize that all of your hard work paid off and he also wanted you to be able to take pride in your work without worrying about how he felt.

Tonight was all about you - the rest could wait.

-

The constant flashing of the cameras and loud sounds from the press and paparazzi are overwhelming to your senses, but Shawn takes it all in stride - obviously far more used to this than you are.

Kennedy and Gertler gave both you and Shawn a rundown of how the red carpet would go - that you’d be taking pictures in front of the backdrop first (individually and then together, since he was your date), and then you’d be going through the press line, of which his bodyguard Jake and your bodyguard Preston would guide you both to which people you would speak to and which you wouldn’t. Once done with the press line, you’d be escorted inside to your seats.

The media is clearly having a field day knowing that he’s your plus one - as soon as you’re done with taking your individual pictures, you get closer to the other and Shawn wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side carefully so you don’t trip on the train of your dress. They’re all yelling at you suddenly, shouting directions at the two of you to smile, to look at one another like you love each other, daring Shawn to kiss you.

He laughs at that one, turning to look down at you and he bends his head a little, whispering into your ear “I’d bet they’d love it if I kissed you right here. I bet  _you’d_  love it if I kissed you right here.”

You know that he’s trying to tease you, trying to get you to break, but you’re ready to play his little game too. You move so his face covers yours in front of the cameras as he listen to you. You drop your voice to that sexy and flirty tone he loves when you tease him, saying “I bet they’d love it if they knew where your filthy little mouth was last night.”

He smirks, pulling back and looking you right in the eyes. “Where it belongs. Where I want it to be all the time.”

“Let’s go you two!” Preston calls, and he and Jake shuffle you both a little down the line.

-

You’re sitting in your seats and the movie is playing, and so far in every moment where there isn’t speech or any important noise going on, Shawn has leaned over to you and whispered in your ear that he’s so fucking proud of you, and that he cannot believe he’s got a girl this talented and amazing as his best friend and more.

His words ease your nerves, and you’re so appreciative of him and all of his support for you, and you can’t help the love that swells in your heart and spreads all over your body.

How could you deny him? How could you downplay what you have?

He’s the best guy you’ve ever known and you’d be damned if you let him get away. But that conversation would happen later.

Instead, you squeeze his hand in gratitude as you continue to watch the movie.

As it progresses, you realize it’s nearing the scene in which you and your co-star, Brenton Thwaites, have your big kiss scene. It’s the same one Shawn helped you practice nearly a dozen times.

Brenton, his wife Chloe, and their gorgeous daughter Birdie sat behind you and Shawn and a few seats to the left. Chloe was such a beautiful and kind soul - and you often felt like a terrible person being the one to kiss her husband in a movie, but Chloe had merely laughed.

“If I had a problem with it, I wouldn’t have married him and had his child. Besides, he gets to kiss beautiful women, but he also gets to come home to me and Birdie. At the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.”

The kiss scene happens and there’s cheers from the crowd - including a loud hoot from Chloe, but next to you, Shawn tenses up, and he tightens his grip on your hand, pulling it over the armrest and into his lap.

He stays like that for the rest of the movie, and remains quiet and reserved until the car ride home, his hands gripping on the steering wheel as he drives the both of you back to your house. You turn the volume down on the radio, turning in your seat with your back against the door and completely facing him, wanting to gauge his reaction when you say “So what did you think of the movie?”

“You were amazing.” He says, not looking at you. His tone of voice suggests honesty, but there’s also something in there that tells you he’s pissed off.

“And?”

“It’s an action movie, do you really need to kiss him? How does it help the plot?”

You smile brightly, leaning across the console and kissing him, careful not to distract him from driving, smiling “Don’t be jealous. It’s not real. Plus you knew that was going to happen, you ran those lines with me, remember?”

_-_

_~ August 2016 ~_

_Shawn dons a serious expression, script copy rolled up and held tightly in his fist. He insisted on helping you run lines for the film you’re working on right now, wanted to help you get ready for your next scene you had to film in a couple of days. It was a pretty intense scene - you and your co-star, who played your love interest, were meant to get into a serious argument over petty things and end up kissing. It was the first kiss scene you’d be filming, and you were too nervous, also sure it wasn’t going to work out well, but Shawn was determined to help you get through it._

_“What’s your fucking problem?” Shawn says. He’s pretty convincing in your opinion - sounds pissed off as the character’s supposed to be. “One second you’re in love with me and you want me around forever, the next second you’re ignoring me and treating me like I don’t fucking exist. I don’t get it! What do you want from me?!”_

_“I don’t know!” You reply, channeling the emotion you know is supposed to be present in this moment._

_“Well I know what I want from you.” He replies, taking strides forward and wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling your body tight against his. “I want you. I want all of you. I need you. And I know you need me.” He bends his head down and close to your face, lowering his voice. “Tell me you need me.” He pleads._

_This is when you’re supposed to kiss. And dammit if you don’t kiss him. You tilt your head up, connecting your lips together and kissing him fiercely. You get lost in the moment, lost in the way Shawn’s hands wind their way into your hair and how his lips feel against your own._

_Shawn._

_You snap out of it, pulling away abruptly, shoving Shawn away from you and taking a deep breath. He’s staring at you, completely stunned by what just happened. Neither of you say a word for a few minutes, searching for what to say, how to feel._

_It’s Shawn who breaks the pregnant pause, crossing the room and wrapping you up into another kiss that makes you dizzy, makes you weak, makes you forget you’re running lines, makes you forget you’re just best friends, makes you beg him to take you to bed._

-

Shawn grumbles a bit. “Yeah but I was kinda hoping after you kissed me, and after we had sex, you’d go to them and cut the kiss out cause it wouldn’t be the same if it wasn’t me.”

You go soft, taking his hand in yours. “It’s not the same, kissing you is different.”

“Which is exactly why I’m pissed off. Those lips are  _mine_.” He growls, pulling into the driveway and turning to you once the car’s parked. He kisses you something fierce, the urgency and aggression rolling off of his body and through yours in waves.

He gently takes his hand and places it at the base of your throat, the other hand going behind your head and pulling gently at the hair at the nape of your neck. The moan that comes out of your mouth spurs him on.

“You’re going to do as I say.” He says, authority lacing his voice. It turns you on almost immediately, watching him get like this - his eyes dark, chest rising and falling, tone calm and even when he continues. “You’re going to go upstairs, get naked, bend over onto the bed, and wait for me.”

“Okay okay I will, I will, but first,” you say, “You need to know something. Well, two things, really.”

He raises a challenging brow at you. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

You smirk at him. “Well first off, I’m not wearing any underwear, and-”

“Dear god,” he cries, eyes shutting and when they open again, they’re wild, looking at you like he’s ready to cry if he doesn’t get to touch you in the next minute. “What else?”

“And,” you singsong, “I’ve decided.”

“On?”

“I’ll be your girlfriend.”


	11. NOVEMBER

Soft and gentle fingers dance up your bare back, winding into your hair and twirling a strand around it before working its way back down, gently stroking into the dip of your back. The covers have been pushed down to under your butt, and you can feel the sun shining through the window and warming your skin, the day clearly just beginning by the way the cool trade-winds blow through the open patio doors.

“Good morning baby.” Shawn’s rough voice comes from next to you.

You remain on your stomach and turn your head, looking at your boyfriend and smiling softly, whispering “Good morning baby.”

He smiles at you, scooting closer so that you’re skin to skin, and kisses the tip of your nose in greeting. You’re both definitely still jet lagged, having only arrived in New Zealand two days ago. You’ve been spending most of it at the beach and hiking around, and thanks to Shawn, you’ve also spent just as much time in bed.

Just the thought of last night makes you aware of the delicious ache in your bones and muscles, and Shawn can tell you’re thinking about it in the way that your cheeks flush and smile creeps higher up your face.

“You make me feel like the luckiest man in the world.” He says, pushing the stray hair out of your face so he can look into your eyes and get lost. The moment is so sweet you can taste it on your tongue, and you burrow your head in his chest, nose brushing at the light dusting of chest hair.

“Why are you up so early?” You murmur.

He sighs. “Got a couple radio interviews.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

It’s a question you shouldn’t really ask - given the media frenzy that happened after your movie premiere last month. The photos of the two of you from the red carpet, the little clips from interviews you both did, and pictures of you both leaving the theater together - you’re pretty sure Kennedy talked to you on the phone about it for an hour and a half. Gertler didn’t say much according to Shawn, just shrugged and said “we’ll deal with it when it actually becomes an issue.”

“No baby, you stay here and sleep in, okay?” He says, kissing your forehead. “I’ll be right back as soon as they’re done though, then we can go out and have another adventure.”

You can’t deny that you want to go with him, but you know that going public with your relationship right now - when you’re both trying to just work on your careers - may not be the best idea.

You just nod your head, and Shawn plants a kiss on the bridge of your nose, pulling you closer into his arms.

-

You feel like a bit of a hypocrite, listening in to Shawn’s radio interview when he’s never allowed to listen to yours. But you miss him, which sounds pathetic considering it’s only been three hours, but it’s true. You miss him and you want him here and hearing his voice while making breakfast in the hotel room kitchen is making it a little better.

The interviewers are different here - they’re talking to Shawn like the adult he is and not some kid, and Shawn clearly appreciates it.

They segway into some game, something about asking Shawn questions interviewers normally never ask, and the very first question immediately grabs your attention.

“Shawn Mendes,” the interviewer asks. “Your song ‘Patience’ is about a hook up with an older woman. What is the oldest lover you have had?”

Shawn laughs. “Uh…twenty…twenty si…twenty five.”

Your heart stops a little. You’re only three years older than Shawn, and by doing the math that does  _not_  make you twenty five.

“Oh wow,” the interview responds. “How old were you at the time?”

“Nineteen.” He responds.

“What the fuck!” You exclaim. He’s been nineteen for nearly two months and he’s slept with a twenty five year old? While he was with you? That can’t be right.

Something inside of you wants to be angry, but a more dominant part of you chalks it up to nothing, and you change the station, going back to making breakfast.

Shawn Facetimes you about twenty minutes later, and he’s red in the face and smiling. “Hi baby.”

“Hi,” you say. You’re shocked at how off you sound.

Shawn picks up on it almost immediately. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh, “I listened to your interview. Well, most of it.”

He raises a brow at you. “Did you?”

“You said the oldest person you slept with was twenty five?” It’s better you just tell him what’s bothering you now, there’s no sense in lying or beating around the bush.

“Well I couldn’t say twenty one and then people would know it was you, so I lied and said twenty five so that they wouldn’t know it was you.”

“Oh.” You say. “I’m sorry.”

He smiles at you. “Don’t be sorry babe. It’s okay. Are you okay?”

You sigh. “Yeah I’m alright. I just made breakfast.”

“Did you save me any?” He questions, waggling his eyebrows at you.

You laugh. “I did, but it’ll be cold if you don’t hurry back soon.”

“Good thing I’m on my way back to the hotel now.”

“Okay,” You say. “I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Alright, bye baby.”

“Bye honey.” You say, and end the call.

Unbeknownst to you, Shawn takes in the last thing you said and feels like a teenager all over again.  _She called me ‘honey.’_

-

The night is winding down, the smell of the ocean creeping in one last time before Shawn shuts the patio doors and windows, climbing into bed with you and wrapping you up in his arms.

You snuggle close, a thought popping into your head and you’re voicing it before you can actually think about what you’re saying. “What do you want for Christmas?”

Shawn looks down at you, blinking. “Christmas?”

You shrug. “Yeah like what do you want for a present?”

He’s hesitant with his response. “We…we don’t get presents for each other? At least we haven’t these past couple years.”

“Well that was… _different_?”

“How?” He’s totally confused, looking down at you and your place on his chest. “Not that I wouldn’t know what to get you, I mean I do, but this is just new.”

“Yeah well…I just thought that, well I don’t know. We’re trying this out, right? And I’m going to see you before you head back to Pickering and I thought it’d be nice to at least give you a gift before you go home?”

“Oh…okay. Yeah. We can do that.” He smiles, kissing your hair.

You’re getting optimistic now. “And…maybe we could like, pick out the Christmas tree? For your place? I know that you asked your mom to decorate it for Christmas but like, I can? I can help you, if you want?”

Shawn wonders in his head what’s gotten into you, can’t deny that he likes it and likes that you’re willing to do this with him since he practically begged you to do it last year and you shot him down. “I’d really like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d like to have a Christmas memory with you.”

You smile, reaching up to kiss the tip of his nose gently.

-

You’d been dreading this day for a little bit, knowing that if you agreed to go with him to New Zealand and Australia that you’d eventually have to say goodbye to him. He needed to go on to finish his tour in Asia and you had to be back in New York to meet with your agent to go over some of the new scripts you’d just received.

You wished that you could just be with him for the rest of the year, follow him on tour and watch him sing his heart out every night, but you also know that you’ve got your own work to do, and you can’t do that if you’re playing housewife with him.

You’re in a private room in the airport alone with him, Preston and Jake standing guard outside the door. Your flight to New York leaves in about an hour, while his flight doesn’t leave for another two hours. You’ve spent most of your time alone thus far crying into his chest, terrified to let go of him all of a sudden, like you haven’t said goodbye to him a thousand times before.

“It’s just for a few more weeks, baby.” He coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be home before you know it.”

“Will you still be mine when you come back?” You whisper, knowing if you speak at a normal level your voice would crack with sadness.

He smiles sadly at you. “I sure will. Will you be mine when I come back to you?”

You nod. “I will, I swear.”

“Then we can do this, honey.” He says. “We’re gonna be fine.”


	12. DECEMBER

“Would you please stop freaking out?”

“I’m not freaking out.”

“Then stop shaking.”

You look down at your legs and realize they’re definitely shaking, and so you cross your legs to stop the movement.

Johnson rolls his eyes at you, handing you another slice of pizza.

You’re back in LA to finish up some last minute meetings about a new movie you’re signing on to, the details mostly being finalized with Kennedy, but ultimately needing your signature. Jack J and Jack G invited themselves over to your place for pizza, burgers, fries, and good movies, but also to find out more about how you and Shawn were doing.

Which in truth - was good, great, fantastic even, but you were just panicking a little because you hadn’t heard from Shawn in about a day and a half, and in two days he would be done with touring, of which immediately after he would come to pick you up in New York, take care of your Christmas plans, before you’d fly into Toronto to spend time with him up until Christmas Eve, when you’d fly back to New York to spend Christmas with your family.

You’d met Shawn’s family plenty of times, but this would be the first time that he’d be meeting more than just your mom and dad, and he was extremely nervous to meet the rest of your family. You figured that maybe that’s why he wasn’t responding to your texts, calls, or Facetimes - considering the last time you talked you basically told him how important it was to you that he meet your family.

He’s your boyfriend for goodness sakes, why shouldn’t he meet your family?

But in Shawn’s mind, and what he’s got planned, it’s more than just meeting your family, it’s asking for  _permission._

Gilinksy’s foot nudges yours. “He’s fine. Are you forgetting he’s in Asia? The time difference is probably enormous.”

You sigh. “I know, I know.”

“Plus,” Johnson says, mouth full of french fries, “Haven’t you gone longer than almost two days without talking to him before?”

“That was different,” you offer. “When we weren’t dating.”

There’s a silence, Gilinsky and Johnson taking in what you just said.

So you  _didn’t_  mention it to them right away when they asked, but where would the fun in that be?

“You’re  _dating_?!” They exclaim simultaneously.

You giggle a little to yourself. “That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Johnson shouts, laying back against the couch in relief. “It’s about fucking time!”

“Who knew lanky little Shawn Mendes would grow up and get himself a girlfriend?” Gilinsky says, nudging you a little in your side.

You go to respond when your phone vibrates in the pocket of your sweatpants, and you fumble around, wiping the grease off of your fingers on Johnson’s shirt - just to be a little shit - before answering Shawn’s phone call.

Wait. What?  _When do we ever not Facetime or text?_  You probably only called him once this year.

“Hello?” you say. The tentative tone of your voice alerts Jack and Jack, but you wave them off, heading down the hall to your bedroom.

“Hi honey,” Shawn says. He sounds slightly out of breath.

“Hi,” you say. “What’s going on?”

“Can’t Facetime right now, not in a good location but I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Your shoulders relax a little, and you sigh. “Are you doing okay?”

“I am,” he says. You can hear him smiling over the phone. “Are  _you_ okay?”

“I am, I just miss you.” You say. There’s a crash in the living room followed by Johnson yelling about something, and Shawn laughs.

“You got company?”

“Just Jack squared. They’re tearing up our house.”

“They’d better be able to pay for it.” He says. “Also, um, I got one of my friends in Toronto to agree to get me a Christmas tree?”

You perk up a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says. There’s the sound of someone speaking to him, and Geoff chimes in for Shawn. The sound dies out, sounding like he’s walking away. “He says that he’s gonna bring it to my place and set it up so that when we get there we can decorate it.”

You smile. “That’s nice of him. Who is it?”

“Uh…” He laughs. “Well, see, it’s uh…it’s Mitch?”

You feel like you’re going to faint. “ _Mitch Marner_?! Like Maple Leafs Mitch Marner? NHL Mitch Marner?! Shawn are you serious?!”

Shawn chuckles. “Yeah, he was the only one I could think of. All of my other friends are busy or on tour with me, so he was my only option.”

“Well he’s quite the option. Tell him I said thank you.”

“I will. Hey listen baby, I’ve got to get going okay? But I’ll try my best to Facetime you tonight after the gig, and I’ll see you in about a week. I love you.”

-

“You think we’re gonna go to another New Years eve party?” Shawn asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“I have a feeling you’re going to throw one,” you say, squinting your eyes at the screen of your phone. “What is that on your shirt?”

He looks down, examining the fabric and laughs. “Wasabi. Zubin chucked it at me at dinner.”

“You’re a mess, Mr. Mendes.”

Shawn laughs at you. “I’m your mess now.”

You can only smile at him in response, happiness coursing through your veins. It took you both awhile, but yeah, he’s yours now.

“Hey, look at what I just got.” You say, changing your camera to show Shawn the newest addition to your living room.

“Christmas tree!” He exclaims. “Perfect. It’s not going to die in the next two days, is it?”

 _Two days._ Hallelujah it would only be two days until he was here and with you in New York, and then you’d have him for a few months all to yourself. “It should be fine.”

“You got that thing in your living room all by yourself?”

You laugh. “No, Preston helped me bring it in. His last duty before vacation.”

“Poor Jake won’t have vacation for another two days.”

“Jake’s a big guy, he’ll be fine. Plus, he needs to protect you for the next two days so you can’t come back to me in one piece.”

Shawn’s quiet for a moment, before he says “I love you, you know that?”

You smile at him. “I do know that, and I love you too.”

“I can’t wait to come home to you, I really can’t.”

“It’s just two more days, Shawn. We can make it.”

“I know we can. I just can’t wait to be with you.”

-

You awake in the late hours of the night to your phone vibrating on the bed next to you. After flicking on the light by your bedside, you answer the Facetime call to Shawn’s smiling face, hood of his jacket over his head, sunglasses over his eyes and tears on his cheeks.

“Hey rockstar.” You say sleepily. “You okay?”

“Tour’s over.” He says shakily. He’s happy crying, the adrenaline obviously still in his body. “You awake?”

“Of course. Always wake up when you call.”

“Good, then open the door.”

His words send your heart racing a million miles an hour. You jump out of bed and run down the steps to your front door, nearly ripping it off the hinges as you open it to face your boyfriend. He takes off his sunglasses, openly crying now as he tosses his bag into the foyer of your home, opening his arms and allowing you to jump into them, wrapping your arms and legs around him and squeezing tight.

He walks you inside, shutting the door with his foot before carrying you right back upstairs and laying you both on the bed. You remain like that for a little while - holding one another and crying like lovesick fools. Which you both were, in a way.

This has been a long time coming, and the fact that he’s yours, he’s actually fucking yours and you’re his, makes you cry.

Because he’s here, and you missed him, and you want to tell him how much you love him, and that you feel the same - you always have and you’re sorry it took you so fucking long to realize it.

But he already knows, and that’s why he’s here.

That, and to decorate your Christmas tree together, like he promised.

After a little while you reach into the draw of your nightstand and procure the little present you stowed away, turning back to Shawn on the bed and giving him his present.

He smiles, long fingers carefully unwrapping and opening the little box. He holds up his present, and the little jingle it makes echoes in your room. “Keys? But I already have a key.”

“Well these are different, symbolic I guess. One is to my place here, since…well I mean, since we’re doing this now, you know? Make it official and all. The second key is to the house in Los Angeles, just because you know, technically that’ll be ours too. And the third key is to what’s in the garage.” You say. “So you can have it when you’re here, so you don’t have to borrow mine all the time.”

He looks at you, confused, and you roll your eyes in response, taking his hand and leading him downstairs and to your garage. You open the door and flick the lights on to reveal his second present, giant bow resting on the hood.

His jaw drops as he takes a step forward, fingertips ghosting over the olive green paint. “You bought me a Jeep?!” Shawn cries. He turns back to you, eyes tearing up again as he kisses you, pressing your body up against the door.

You giggle. “I know you have one of your own in Toronto, but I figured instead of having to rent a car here or be ushered around everywhere, at least you have wheels of your own.”

The smile that stretches across his face makes your stomach swoop and your heart skip a beat, and he takes you by surprise, scooping you up and carrying you bridal style back up the stairs, plopping you down onto the living room couch.

He also brought you a christmas present, which he removes from his backpack and hands to you. “Now open yours.”

It’s a small little box, which you turn over into your hand, and a slightly smaller box lands in your palm.

The ring box in your hand is clearly from Disney Tokyo, of which you look up at him and gawk a little. “You went to Disneyland Tokyo just to buy me this ring?”

“Well I didn’t go on any rides if it makes you feel better, but yes, yes I did.”

“Shawn, I-”

“It’s also why I had to call you instead of Facetime? Because I realized if I Facetimed you that you’d know what I was up to? But I also wanted you to know that I was getting your texts and things and that I didn’t forget about you.”

You laugh. “That makes sense, but Shawn, is this-”

“It’s not an engagement ring,” he says right away. You visibly relax, and he smiles. “We both know we’re not there just yet, but I wanted this to be kind of…I don’t know, a statement?” He takes a minute to open the box and remove the ring, placing it on your left ring finger, allowing you to look at it. It’s exactly the style you’d wear and you smile at how well he knows you.

“I guess we can call it a promise ring, or what the hell ever else, but I see it as that one day, I’ll get you a better one, one that means you’re my wife and I’m your husband, but for now, this one just says that you’re mine, and I’m yours, and that’s what we’ll be until we’re ready for more.”

You smile at him, tears coming to your eyes. “Let’s hope we don’t take as long to get there as we did to get here.”

“Oh I’ll make sure of it.” He swears. And with that, he takes your face in his hands, kissing you like he needs you the way he needs air to breathe.


	13. EPILOGUE

##  _**January 2018** _

Shawn lets a deep sigh out, the hot water coursing down his back and relaxing his muscles, ridding him of the cold he was feeling only minutes ago. He hangs his head, letting the steam and the heat fill his senses and trying to alleviate some of his stress.

His album is just about done, and he’s been in New York for most of January meeting with executives and the label, trying to get most of it finalized. He’s also in town for a performance that’s set to air in April, a Grammy party you just got home from, and a few other meetings. It’s mostly business, which he’s fine with, but knowing that you’re taking time off for awhile and he’s not taking time off with you kind of makes him sad.

That’s why he’s thankful that you agreed to come with him to Jamaica next month, while the boys finish wrapping up the album, you’ll be right there with him, helping him keep focused while enjoying time in a place that isn’t freezing cold New York City or Toronto.

He’s also been taking most of this month to get a jump start on moving in with you - he’s keeping his place in Toronto and you’ve got your place in LA still, but NYC is where you both feel like it’s home, so he’s been working since New Years to make it home for both of you.

New Years Eve was spent curled up on his couch in Toronto, both of you sipping on mixed drinks, eating popcorn, and watching his New Year’s Rockin’ Eve performances. He remembers the way you lovingly made fun of his shirt and his hair, but also how you kept telling him how proud you were of him, and how much he appreciated your support.

He thinks that memory is going to be carved into his brain forever - the way your smile made your eyes crinkle when you laughed, the way your body warmed his right up as you snuggled together under a throw blanket, how your socked toes brushed against his leg, the way your fingers danced up his arm - he felt like his heart was going to burst with how much he loves you.

Shawn shuts the water off, grabbing a towel and drying his body before wrapping it around his waist, padding back into your room. You’re already asleep, been sleeping since you both got home from the Grammy Party. He knew that you were tired from the adrenaline from the entire festivities, and not to mention the anxiety and nerves that had wracked through you given the fact that while attending the party, you’d also both made your relationship public.

It was technically a happy accident. You and Shawn were posing for photos, similar to the way you did at your movie premiere, and of course people were yelling things at you, telling you guys which way to look and to smile and act like you were in love - which you were - and then people were yelling at you to kiss.

So Shawn kissed you.

The screams that followed were deafening, and Shawn could tell by the way your heart pounded in your chest and against his skin that he took you by surprise, but the smile you gave him, the laugh that sounded out of your lips - he knew that was your way of telling him it was okay, telling him that you were completely okay with what just happened.

He climbs into bed, pulling you tight against his body and burying his nose in your hair, smelling your shampoo from the shower you took five minutes after you guys got home. He slings an arm around your waist, fingers rubbing gently at your stomach.

“I love you.” He murmurs.

You can hear him in your sleepy state, reply with  “I love you too,” before lacing your fingers through his, resting them against your stomach and both of you falling into a relaxed slumber.

-

##  **_February 2018_ **

Shawn, you, and his team landed in Kingston Jamaica about a week ago, here to escape the freezing winters of the east coast and for Shawn to finish his third album. He’s been cooped up in the villa for a little while today, recording and trying to get out exactly what he’s feeling before he loses it - loses the words and the wherewithal to put his heart out there.

He feels like the luckiest man in the world - being able to record, sing to his heart’s content while looking out the window at you, relaxing poolside, doing yoga on the deck, or resting in the hammock and reading through a script.

He sings about you, and it’s probably no secret.  

A lot of the songs on his album are like all the other songs he’s written - some of them are based on generalized relationships, some of them are based on experiences that he’s seen, that he’s heard of, and then there’s the special few that are undoubtedly about you. Those are the ones that come easy, those are the ones that he can write in less than ten minutes and know that he’s saying exactly what he needs to say, and knows that when you hear it, you’ll understand and cherish every word.

Today, as he’s recording, he can see you resting in the hammock again, a different script in your hand, can tell you’re slightly more interested in whatever this story is compared to the other one you were reading, and maybe more than the other three in your suitcase Kennedy insisted you bring with you on vacation.

He watches the way you wrinkle your nose at some parts, furrow your eyebrows, draw your lip between your teeth - he watches the way you cross one leg over the other, how you arch up as you scoot down in the hammock, trying to get comfortable.

Shawn’s been watching you a lot lately - just loves looking at you and soaking you in, watching the ways you move around his spaces, how you fit so perfectly there and how he would hate to think about what his life would be like right now if he didn’t make his move on your last year at that New Years Eve party, if he didn’t make his move when he was helping you run lines when he lived with you, and what would happen if he never told you he thought you were beautiful when he first met you.

He’s singing into the mic when he takes another glance at you, and he can see the way that the ring he gave you glistens in the sun, and his heart stops.

You haven’t taken it off since he gave it to you, keep it close to you at all times, and Shawn plays with it sometimes when he holds your hand, twists it around a few times and then brings it back to center. He loves that you love it, loves that you love him.

He hangs his headphones up and gives a nod to the rest of the guys in the room, signaling that he’s done for now, and he heads into the house, grabbing the little box he’s been hiding in his suitcase from you, placing it in his jeans, and making his way out to you on the deck.

“Hi honey,” he says, and you lower your script, smiling widely at him before tossing your script to the floor, swinging your legs and leaving the hammock to give him a hug.

“Hi rockstar,” you say into his skin. His hand feels the warmth of the sun on your skin, and he pulls you closer, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Happy Valentine’s day,” he murmurs. Shawn pulls back a little, taking the little box out from his back pocket and handing it to you.

The writing on the top of the box says “Cartier,” and you immediately raise a brow as you open the box, revealing a Cartier Love Bracelet - it’s simple, not the one encrusted with diamonds or anything, but it is the one that once you lock it onto your wrist, it stays there, and you have to go back to the jeweler to get it taken off.

You’re gawking at it a bit, and Shawn can’t see your face, can’t tell if you hate it or not, so he’s quick to say “I thought it would be another symbolic thing? Not in like a handcuffed thing…but more of like a me with you? Here…”

He pulls an identical box out of his back pocket, holding it up with a smile. “I got one too? I thought…well I thought that it would be another symbolic thing that said that like, we’re in this for the long run, you know? Cause you have to get these unscrewed and like if we got them unscrewed and took them off then that would mean that we don’t want this anymore, and I figured that getting this for us would be my way of saying that I don’t want out? And oh god I can see now that this  _is_  a handcuffed thing and I-”

The feeling of your lips on his shuts up him, shocks him also because he was sure by your silence that you hated it, that you didn’t want any part of it and he was sure he fucked up your Valentine’s day for sure. But your kiss feels like it always does, like you love him and like you want to be his for as long as possible.

“I love it.” You say when you pull away, “I love it and I understand why you got it for me, and I can’t wait to put it on.”

“You love it?”

“Yes, Shawn. And no, it’s not a handcuff thing. It’s a commitment thing. Us committing to this relationship, just like my ring, committing to more and to our future. And if I took this ring off, and if I took this bracelet off, then that’s me not wanting to commit anymore. So I get it - you and your symbolism - I get it honey. I do. And I love it.”

-

The sun had gone down past the horizon hours ago, and you and Shawn are curled up in bed, already showered and watching “Guardians of the Galaxy 2.”

You started it this morning while having breakfast in bed, and he promised that you’d finish the movie before bed.

It’s the final scene, and Peter’s looking at Gamora, says “What?”

Gamora says “Nothing, just…some unspoken thing.”

Shawn snickers a little bit, and you look at him, raising a brow. “What’s so funny?”

“Not funny,” he says. “Just…it’s just that, that’s kind of us, isn’t it?”

“You mean Star-Lord and Gamora? Are you equating our relationship to Star-Lord and Gamora?”

“Maybe the start of it.” He jokes.

You laugh to yourself, because he’s not wrong, it was definitely rocky for a little, but you eventually figured it out. “I guess you’re right.”

He shrugs, cuddling closer to you and kissing your forehead. “I don’t care about being right. All I care about is that I have you.”


End file.
